What Price, Happiness?
by Bits And Pieces
Summary: Companion piece to, "A Brief Interlude"; how Hogan and Newkirk's relationship began, and what eventually happened to them. WARNING: Contains SLASH. Final chapter is up.
1. Prologue

A/N: I decided to write this after receiving several requests for another Hogan/Newkirk story. I've also attempted to make it as realistic and believable as I can, and I hope I've been able to accomplish that.

WARNING: This story will contain slash, and some of the scenes may be a bit explicit. If this isn't something you're interested in, it's absolutely okay with me if you decide not to read it!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hogan's Heroes characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

He sat in the pub, glancing casually around the room, occasionally looking down at the table in front of him; noticing that he could just make out his reflection in the glossy surface of the treated wood. He was glad to have gotten a booth; he'd never liked sitting at the tables in the middle of the room; they always made him feel too exposed, too vulnerable. He looked up as the waitress came over with his beer, setting it down quickly yet gently, her years of experience showing. She smiled at him, asking him politely if there was anything else she could get for him, and he couldn't help noticing the hint of flirtation in her demeanor. He smiled back, and told her he was fine, watching as her face imperceptibly registered disappointment. Then she headed back to the bar, her mind already on the next table she had to service; hoping she would have better luck with the three raucous men who were obviously trying to unwind after a hard day's work.

He picked up his beer, staring briefly at the tiny drops of condensation clinging to the outside of the glass, and then took a sip; his mouth welcoming the cool, dark, bubbly liquid that tasted strongly of malt and yeast. He smacked his lips quietly and set the glass back down on the table, unconsciously placing it directly on top of the water ring that had formed underneath its original spot. Then he brought his arm up and glanced at his watch; he had about an hour to kill before the person he was there to meet would arrive. He inwardly sighed, and then, for lack of anything else to occupy his mind for that length of time, he began to reflect on how he had ended up here; what had led up to his current situation. As his thoughts drifted and his memory took over, he inadvertently smiled to himself.

* * * * * *

Robert E. Hogan was thirteen years old when he began to wonder if he was a little different from the rest of the boys in school. That was the year all his friends started talking about girls, and, although he went along with them, participating in the conversations with enthusiasm, he didn't really see what the big deal was. He didn't know why he felt no real attraction to the girls in his class, but considering how interested his friends seemed to be, he knew he should. But he kept his confusion to himself, and played along; even though he grew tired of the other boys talking about them incessantly.

Then, in his junior year of high school, a new student transferred in by the name of Mike Fitzgerald, and Robert inextricably found himself drawn to him. Mike was funny, gregarious, and a real charmer; yet also a bit of a troublemaker, judging by the pranks he periodically pulled on the teachers and the staff. He got into trouble plenty of times, but he always seemed to talk his way out of serious punishment. Of course, his good looks may have had something to do with that; especially with the female teachers. Mike was tall, with dark hair and an athletic build, and had bright green eyes that seemed to have a laugh all their own.

Robert started hanging around him more; at first out of curiosity, but later on, because he had grown to like him, a lot. They soon became fast friends; playing sports together, hanging out after school, walking down to the creek on Saturday mornings for a little fly-fishing. It was Mike in fact who started calling him Rob, and it stuck. They talked about everything and nothing, and Mike even got Rob to participate in a few harmless pranks with him, although it was Rob who always ended up being punished when they got caught.

One topic that never seemed to come up between them, at least when they were alone, was girls. Around the other guys, they readily joined in when the conversation turned to the fairer sex, and Mike was particularly good at regaling them with stories of his exploits at his previous school. Never mind that, by the time they were almost through their final year, he would have had to have dated every girl in his old school for his stories to be true. But the gang ate it up, and when they graduated, Mike was voted most popular student.

Rob and Mike both had plans to join the military after high school, but, where Rob had his heart set on being a pilot, Mike was more interested in the sea. So, Rob enlisted in the Army Air Corps, and Mike joined the Navy. As the day neared for them to leave, Rob finally realized something he had suspected for a long time; he had feelings for Mike…the kind of feelings he should be having for a girl. He'd been trying to deny them; bury them away where they would never get out, but he couldn't keep them hidden any longer. He'd finally had to admit it to himself; he was in love with Mike. Oh, he knew with crystal clarity how wrong it was; society had made that very clear. And he also knew that he could never, ever, reveal to anyone, including Mike, how he felt; no matter how much he wanted to.

Rob and Mike spent their last night together hanging out in Rob's backyard, talking excitedly about all the things they were going to get to see and do in their new careers. Soon enough it was time for Mike to head home. They said their goodbyes, and as Mike started to walk away, he suddenly turned around and looked into Rob's eyes. There was a sadness there, mixed with desire, and a longing for something that both of them knew could never be. Rob knew then that Mike felt the same way, and his heart broke. As he watched him turn and walk away, he felt something wet on his cheeks, and didn't even care that he was crying.

After that night, Rob made a decision that he wasn't going to let himself feel that way for another man ever again. He just wanted to be normal; he wanted to fit into the mold that society, and his parents, expected of him. So he made up his mind that he would throw himself into his career, become the best pilot that the Army Air Corp had ever seen, date lots of women, and eventually settle down and start a family of his own. But, deep down, way, way down in the depths of his being, he knew what he was sacrificing; and that's when he realized that happiness has a price.

* * * * *

Robert E. Hogan stayed true to his resolve; he sailed through flight school, and once he was assigned to a squadron, he spent his free time out with his fellow fliers, prowling the local clubs and directing his charm at any attractive female that glanced in his direction. It wasn't long before his reputation for both a top-notch pilot and ladies' man became legendary. Then the war broke out, and shortly after he made Colonel, he was transferred to the RAF. Somehow, his reputation managed to precede him there, so by the time he arrived, he already had a lot to live up to. But it didn't take long for him to prove to them that the reputation was deserved, and soon enough he was flying bombing raids over Germany.

Then one night, the unthinkable happened. His plane was shot down over Germany, and the next thing he knew, he was a prisoner of war. After the grueling sessions of questioning that he had to endure for a few weeks, he was finally transferred to Stalag Thirteen, where he was told he would have to stay for the remainder of the war.

When he first arrived, he'd already decided that he would make his escape as soon as possible, and get back to England to rejoin his squadron. After a brief and rather amusing interrogation by the Kommandant there, Colonel Klink, he was sent to Barracks Two, to occupy the office of Senior POW.

As he settled in and began to take over his duties, he also began to get to know the other prisoners, and they wasted little time showing him what they'd been up to. It turned out they'd been digging tunnels for months, and when he saw what they'd accomplished, the sheer volume of space they'd created underneath the barracks, he was truly amazed. A plan began to form in his mind, and, upon discovering that the dog trainer, Oskar Schnitzer, was secretly working with the Underground, his plan solidified. He asked Schnitzer to smuggle in a radio, which Sergeant Kinchloe was able to set up in the tunnel. Then he contacted London, and a mission was born.

Hogan's next task was to select the men for his team, making sure they understood that their participation was strictly voluntary. Sergeant James Kinchloe, who liked to be called Kinch, was first to offer his services; he was a natural with the radio and related equipment. Corporal Louis LeBeau was next, he had a giant's share of courage and determination, and his skills as a Chef would no doubt come in very handy. Sergeant Andrew Carter also volunteered; he had an extensive knowledge of explosives, and a fair grasp of chemistry, which made him invaluable for the sabotage part of their operation.

And then there was Corporal Peter Newkirk. He had a number of talents, any one of which would prove to be indispensable, so Hogan couldn't have been more thrilled when he voiced his willingness to help. There was only one problem; from the moment he'd met him, Hogan had felt something; an attraction that, not only hadn't he felt in a long time; but one he knew he couldn't afford to have at that particular place and time. Newkirk was witty and charming, and had a rebellious quality about him; a combination that he found difficult to ignore. The corporal reminded him a little of Mike, and those bright green eyes of his didn't help. But Hogan was determined to keep his feelings buried; the new mission was too important to let anything get in the way.

As the weeks turned into months and they were able to get some successful missions under their belt, their confidence grew. Hogan couldn't have been more pleased; he was thankful for the talented group of guys that he had working for him, and he knew that he'd never succeed without them.

Still, as adept as he was at masking it, Hogan couldn't completely ignore what he felt for Newkirk. But then a curious thing started to happen, and he began to suspect that the interest might be mutual. He had a tendency to throw his arm around the fellas from time to time, and when he did it to the Englishman, there was something there; a comfortable compatibility that was lacking in all his other physical contacts. In fact, sometimes when he touched Newkirk, he thought he felt him respond; leaning in as if trying to show that he was aware of Hogan's intentions, and felt the same. For the first time in many, many years he found himself wanting to say something; he wanted to let Newkirk know how he felt. But he knew he couldn't. Even if by some miracle Newkirk felt the same, he couldn't afford to take the chance. So he kept his silence, although somehow he found reasons to put his hands on Newkirk more; and couldn't help noticing that the corporal didn't seem to mind.

The months multiplied, and more missions were undertaken and successfully handled. Hogan kept his feelings and emotions in check, and resigned himself to the fact that nothing would ever come of his attraction to Newkirk; he certainly had no intention of acting on his feelings. But then, he could never have anticipated their next mission.


	2. The first encounter

**Chapter 2**

"C'mon, Newkirk, hurry up, will you?" Hogan called out impatiently through the doorway to the small room off the main tunnel, "We've got to get going if we're gonna make it there and back before the last roll call."

"I'm goin' as fast as I can, Colonel!" Newkirk exclaimed, tugging on the stocking he was attempting to slide up his leg. He managed to get the top part up to his mid-thigh, and as he was fastening it with the clips from the garter, mumbled under his breath, "_You_ bloody try wearin' nylons!"

Hogan started pacing anxiously, wondering what on Earth could be taking so long, when Newkirk finally emerged from the room. He was wearing an elegant tea-length evening gown, with a high neck and long sleeves, and a wig of brown hair that cascaded to his shoulders. The gown was black, with a hat to match, and the black high-heeled shoes he had on rounded out the ensemble nicely.

Carter spotted him first and let out a whistle. "Boy, Newkirk, you look pretty good! If I didn't already know you, I'd think you were a girl!"

"Yeah, Newkirk, you could fool me," Kinch piped up from his seat behind the table where he was monitoring the radio.

"I've always said you look good in basic black," Hogan replied, flashing him a lopsided grin.

"Hmpf!" LeBeau snorted, "He still looks like Newkirk to me!"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. He looked at Hogan and said, "Can we get on with this, then?"

Hogan bowed slightly and gestured with his hand. "After you, dear," he replied, his grin turning into a full-blown smile.

"Bloody charmin'," Newkirk muttered, and headed for the tunnel exit. Hogan followed, decked out in a Luftwaffe Captain's dress uniform, complete with medals showing off his illustrious career to date.

As the two disguised men disappeared from view, LeBeau turned to Kinch and said, "I hope this works."

"Me, too," Kinch replied, a worried expression on his face.

* * * * * *

A few days earlier, they had received a message from London that a Luftwaffe General by the name of Berger was throwing an early retirement party at his mansion, and he had apparently amassed a great deal of top secret information which he kept in a safe on the premises. Their orders had been, predictably, to infiltrate the party and retrieve that information by whatever means necessary. Fortunately, Klink had been invited, and not only had they successfully managed to intercept the invitation, but they were able to re-address it to a very decorated Captain Schneider of the Luftwaffe.

Hogan had, of course, assumed the identity of Captain Schneider, and he was attending the party with his wife Hildegarde, conveniently played by Newkirk. The plan was to find the room containing the safe, let Newkirk perform his magic, and slip away from the festivities, leaving the revelers none the wiser.

Hogan and Newkirk had no trouble after they emerged from the tree stump exit, although it took a little bit longer for Newkirk, considering the way he was dressed. They successfully evaded the searchlights, and took off for the car that Kinch had parked outside the camp for them earlier; promising Fritz in the motor pool an extra two cents a mile if anything happened to the vehicle.

When they arrived at the mansion, Hogan got out of the car and walked around to let Newkirk out. The corporal couldn't hide his smirk at the whole situation, but he exited the vehicle and took the arm that Hogan offered. Then they strolled up to the door, both of them putting on their game faces. Hogan handed his invitation over to the guard at the entrance, and after the man nodded and handed it back to him, they entered the house.

Beyond the doorway was a short foyer which opened up into an enormous room; complete with a two-story-high ceiling and a spiral staircase to the far right, winding up to the second floor. There was a crowd of people mingling throughout the room, most of them couples, and they were dressed in their finest attire for the special occasion.

Newkirk unconsciously gripped Hogan's arm a little tighter, and then they walked nonchalantly into the sea of dress uniforms and evening gowns, smiling and exchanging pleasantries with the other invited guests. At one point they ended up in front of General Berger and his wife, and after Hogan introduced themselves as Captain Schneider and his wife Hildegarde, asked politely if they might take a tour of the General's lovely home. Frau Berger was delighted by their interest, and told them that, by all means, they were welcome to look around. Hogan and Newkirk smiled gratuitously at the General and his wife and strolled off, blending back into the crowd while making their way slowly toward the stairs.

When they reached the staircase, they climbed up; studying the large paintings adorning the wall with interest. Soon enough they arrived at the landing, and began to walk down the long hallway, glancing at each door with even more interest. There were several other couples wandering the hall, so they slowed their pace and turned their gaze to the architecture, commenting rather loudly on how well-built the mansion appeared to be. They paused for a few moments to admire another expensive-looking painting that was hanging on the wall, while surreptitiously watching the other guests; waiting for them to leave.

At last they were alone. They split up and moved down the hall, checking each door as quickly as they could. Hogan soon found what looked like the General's study, and motioned to Newkirk to join him. They entered the room and began to look around, and after a brief search, discovered the safe hidden behind yet another painting. Hogan moved over to the door to act as lookout, while Newkirk went to work on the safe. He had it open within a few minutes, and proceeded to extract its contents and spread them out on the desk adjacent to the wall. He lifted up his dress and pulled out the tiny camera that he'd stashed in his garter, and took pictures of the papers as fast as possible. When he'd finished, he returned the camera to its hiding place, then gathered up the papers and stuffed them back into the safe.

When he was through, Newkirk straightened up and went over to join Hogan, nodding at him that he was ready when the colonel was. Hogan glanced up and down the hall one more time, and then swung open the door and slipped out, pulling Newkirk with him. He shut the door to the study, held out his arm once again for Newkirk, and after the corporal had latched on, they walked back to the stairs, all the while glancing around with unconcerned looks on their faces.

After descending the stairs, they weaved their way slowly through the crowd, inching ever closer to the door. As they neared their destination, their confidence began to grow that they were actually going to pull this off. They were both about to breathe a sigh of relief, when they heard a familiar voice talking to the guard at the door. Hogan pulled Newkirk quickly over to the side, and peeked around the corner. Sure enough, it was Colonel Klink.

"No, you don't understand, I was invited to the party, I just never received my invitation," Klink was saying, "I'm sure it just got lost in the mail."

"I'm sorry, but I cannot let you in without an invitation," the guard informed him.

"But, General Burkhalter called me, and insisted I be here!" Klink half-shouted, half-whined.

"Blimey, what do we do now?" Newkirk hissed into Hogan's ear.

Hogan glanced furtively around the room. "There's got to be another way out of here," he said, then turned and started to lead Newkirk away from the main entrance.

They walked along near the outer wall, masking their worry with some effort. Soon they came upon a door that appeared to open to the outside, and, after a quick glance at Newkirk, Hogan grabbed the knob and pulled. As it swung open, they saw that it led into a side garden, with trimmed hedges and rows of bushes that held several different variations and colors of flowers, most of which had retired for the night. There was a small fountain at the center of the garden, surrounded by curved, marble benches, and a narrow cement path which led straight to the fountain, and then out to the main sidewalk that ran between the parking lot and the house.

Hogan and Newkirk glanced at each other and smiled. Then they stepped out into the chilly autumn air and strolled toward the fountain, following the path that would take them back to the main walkway, and eventually to their car. They were almost to the sidewalk when they looked in the direction of the parking lot, and saw none other than General Burkhalter and his wife striding up toward the house!

Hogan whirled around so that his back was to the sidewalk. Newkirk stood facing him, giving him a clear view over Hogan's shoulder of the general approaching from his left.

"_Now_ what do we do, sir?" Newkirk whispered loudly, his eyes starting to reflect the fear that was welling up inside him.

"Don't panic," Hogan replied quietly, "That's the first thing. Maybe if we just stand here and act like we're talking, he won't even notice us."

"I bloody 'ope you're right," Newkirk said. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught some movement to his right, and glanced over toward the house. His eyes widened in alarm, and he hissed, "It's Klink! And he's comin' this way! Blimey, Colonel, if either of them sees your face…"

"Okay, now we can panic," Hogan responded, his own fear becoming evident. He stepped in close to Newkirk and circled his arms around the corporal, pulling him close.

"Colonel, what are you doin'?" Newkirk asked, surprised.

"You're supposed to be my wife, remember? Now, put your arms around me."

Newkirk hesitated for a moment, then slid his arms around Hogan's waist, bringing his hands up to rest just behind the colonel's shoulders.

Hogan leaned in and nuzzled Newkirk's neck. "Where are they now?" he whispered in Newkirk's ear.

Newkirk was still trying to adjust to the fact that his commanding officer was embracing him so intimately. He blinked a few times and looked over Hogan's shoulder, watching with increasing apprehension Burkhalter and his wife approaching from the left, and Klink from the right. Fortune didn't seem to be smiling on them at the moment, because the two German officers met up directly behind Hogan, and stopped. "They're right behind you," Newkirk breathed into Hogan's ear, not wanting to be overheard.

"General Burkhalter!" Klink called out as he walked up to him, "I'm so glad to see you! And your lovely wife, Berta, of course!"

"Klink, what are you doing out here?" Burkhalter asked, sounding annoyed.

"Well, you see, General, they wouldn't let me in without an invitation." Klink laughed nervously, "I tried to explain that it must have gotten lost in the mail…"

"Never mind, Klink, you can come in with us," Burkhalter said. Then he happened to glance over at what appeared to be a Luftwaffe Captain having a romantic moment with his wife. "And what do we have, here?"

Hogan and Newkirk could hear the exchange going on between Burkhalter and Klink. At the general's last comment, Hogan felt the Englishman's body stiffen.

"He's lookin' at us!" Newkirk squeaked in fear.

Hogan brought his head back and, without a word, leaned in and planted his lips on Newkirk's mouth. He felt Newkirk initially tense up, but after a few moments, the corporal seemed to relax a little.

"Oh, how sweet," Berta Burkhalter spoke up, "It's so nice to see they're still in love."

"If you ask me, Berta," Burkhalter replied, "It's just a disgusting public display of affection. I should go over there and break it up right now."

Upon hearing that, Hogan pulled Newkirk tighter, and began to kiss him passionately, thrusting his tongue into Newkirk's mouth. To his utter surprise, he felt Newkirk respond, gripping him tighter and matching his intensity.

"Albert, don't you dare!" Berta exclaimed, "You leave them alone! Let them enjoy a few moments together." Then her eyes shone and she said, "Remember when you used to kiss me like that?"

Albert Burkhalter rolled his eyes. "You see? That's why I should put a stop to this!"

"Oh, Albert!" Berta exclaimed, then she latched onto his arm. "Let's go join the party."

Burkhalter sighed. "Very well, Berta." He smiled at her and started to walk toward the house, motioning to Klink to follow.

As the German party moved away, Hogan kept kissing Newkirk, waiting until he could pull away safely; a big part of him wishing that he didn't have to. The footsteps faded, then they were gone, and still Hogan had his lips locked on Newkirk's. At last he drew his head back and looked into the Englishman's eyes, and was astonished to see them mirroring his own desire. Then Newkirk blinked a few times, and it was gone; replaced by utter confusion.

"What…why did you…?" Newkirk couldn't seem to get the words out.

Hogan cleared his throat while he tried to clear his head. Had he really seen that willingness in Newkirk's eyes a moment ago? Or had he imagined it; was it just a case of wishful thinking? As he mulled it over, he realized Newkirk was still waiting for an answer. He opened his mouth and said, "Burkhalter's wife," like that should explain everything.

"Burkhalter's wife?" Newkirk repeated questioningly.

"Yeah, I knew she wouldn't let him disturb us, if she thought we were some married couple out here rekindling our romance."

"So, you…kissed me because you were bettin' on Burkhalter's wife to stop 'im from comin' over 'ere, and discoverin' who you really are, is that it?"

"That's it, Newkirk. Believe me, that's all it was." _Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Rob, and maybe someday you'll believe it._

"Well, I, uh, I guess that makes sense," Newkirk replied.

Hogan could have sworn there was a hint of disappointment in Newkirk's voice, but he still wasn't ready to trust that his own desire wasn't clouding his judgment. "C'mon, Newkirk, let's get out of here," he said, at that point just wanting to get back to camp.

Newkirk nodded. "I'm with you, sir. Besides, I wouldn't want to be out 'ere if Burkhalter and Klink come back!"

"Me neither!" Hogan replied. Then he smiled at Newkirk and held out his arm. "Shall we?"

Newkirk eyed him suspiciously for a moment, and then he smirked and took Hogan's arm. "Yes, dear," he quipped, letting a chuckle escape his lips.

Hogan inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He began to walk toward the car with Newkirk at his side, grateful that they'd gotten past the awkwardness of the situation. Still, he found himself once again wishing he could tell Newkirk how he really felt, but he knew that even if he could work up the courage, now was not the time. Of course, that begged the question of when, if ever, should he say something? And if he did, what kind of reaction could he expect from Newkirk; would he reciprocate? Or would he be horrified, doubting he could stay and work with a man who had feelings for him? And if Newkirk left, what would that do to the mission? As those thoughts circled around in his brain, he finally decided that no, he couldn't ever tell him; he couldn't risk putting Newkirk in that position.

When they reached the car, Hogan held the door for Newkirk, and then walked around to the driver's side and got in. Then he started up the car and headed back to camp, determined to once again hide his feelings; just as he'd done so many, many times before.


	3. A close call

**Chapter 3**

Hogan and Newkirk made it back to Stalag Thirteen without incident. They left the car where they'd initially found it, and crept through the woods to the tree stump entrance. After they climbed down, they walked to the main tunnel area directly below Barracks Two, where three worried faces were waiting to greet them.

Carter was the first to speak up. "Boy, are we glad to see you two! We thought for sure you were going to get caught…"

"Yeah, Colonel," Kinch cut in, "Right after you left, Klink got a phone call from Burkhalter, and then he left to go to that party. We had no way to contact you…"

"Oui, we were afraid Klink would see you there," LeBeau piped up.

Hogan held up his hand. "It's all right, fellas. Klink did show up, but we got out of there before he saw us."

"And before ol' Burkhalter saw us, too," Newkirk added.

Carter's eyes widened, "You saw both of them there? How did you get away?"

Hogan and Newkirk threw a quick glance at each other. Then Newkirk grinned and said, "We just slipped out the back way."

"Gosh, that was lucky, wasn't it?" Carter replied, "I mean, if Klink or Burkhalter had seen you…"

"We wouldn't be standin' 'ere right now, would we?" Newkirk quipped.

"Well, we're just glad to have you back, Colonel," Kinch said, looking at Hogan. Then he smirked and nodded at Newkirk, "You too, Hildegarde."

Newkirk scowled and his eyes narrowed. "Kinch, I'm warnin' you…"

"All right," Hogan interrupted, "We're glad we made it back, too, but we still have some work to do. Kinch, give London a call and tell them the mission was a success. Carter, I want you to develop the film that's in Newkirk's camera; we'll send the pictures back with the next man we've got going to England. And Newkirk," Hogan looked at the corporal and smiled, "You can go change."

"About bloody time!" Newkirk exclaimed. Then he headed off to the adjacent room to change back into his uniform.

* * * * * *

That night, after lights out, Hogan climbed up to his bunk and stretched out, grateful to have survived another mission. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, letting his mind drift; already knowing what it wanted to occupy itself with – Newkirk. He kept replaying the kiss they'd shared; how good it felt, how much he'd wanted it to continue…and the response he'd gotten from the corporal. Had he imagined it? Or was there a chance that Newkirk felt the same, and was too afraid to admit it to him? He let out a sigh, wishing once again that he could tell Newkirk how he felt. But he knew he couldn't; it would be too big of a risk. As he closed his eyes, he wished instead that there were some way he could get rid of his desire; denounce it, banish it, lock it away someplace where it could never escape. But, since that wasn't possible, he resigned himself to the fact that he'd have to carry his torch for a while longer…at least until the end of the war. Then, once they were liberated, he could begin the process of getting over Newkirk; it would be a lot easier when he didn't have to see him every day.

* * * * * *

The next few months seemed to pass in a blur. Between the sheer volume of missions that London kept assigning them, and the number of downed fliers that needed rescuing, they were kept busy from morning to night; sometimes having to sacrifice their sleep completely. Before they knew it, it was already December, and they were all exhausted. Luckily, the activity slowed for a few days, and the men were able to take a much-needed break.

Then, just ten days before Christmas, they received a message from the Underground; there was a train scheduled to pass near Stalag Thirteen the following evening at 2200 hours, on its way to Berlin, and it was carrying a full load of ammunition. They knew what that meant; they'd have to go out the next night, and blow it up.

That afternoon, Hogan called his men into his quarters so they could go over the details. "All right," he began, once everyone was settled, "We'll head out after the last roll call, set the explosives, and get back here before the train explodes. This should be a pretty cut-and-dried mission; we've done it plenty of times before."

"Uh, Colonel?" Carter spoke up from his seat on Hogan's lower bunk, "Did they say what kind of ammunition's on that train?"

"No, they didn't, Carter," Hogan replied patiently, "I don't think it matters, does it?"

"Well, sir," Carter said, beginning to fidget a little, "The thing is, I'm all out of timers."

Hogan frowned. "And you're just telling me this now?" he replied with a slight edge to his voice.

Carter's fidgeting intensified. "I didn't know it myself, sir, until I found out about the train and went to check. We were so busy there for a while, you know? I guess I just lost track of them."

Hogan folded his arms and sighed. "What about explosives?"

"Oh, I've got plenty of those ready to go, Colonel!" Carter replied with enthusiasm, "More than enough!"

"We could still plant the explosives, and use the detonator to set 'em off when the train shows up," Kinch suggested.

"Yeah," Hogan said, "But we'll be outside of camp when it explodes. If Klink hears it, he might decide to check up on us; that's why I wanted us back here."

Newkirk smirked. "If Klink 'ears it? Blimey, Colonel, that man could sleep through a bombin' raid on this camp!"

Hogan chuckled. "You have a point, Newkirk," he said. Then his face grew serious as he mulled it over for a few moments. At last he nodded and stated resolutely, "Okay, let's do it."

"Uh, Colonel?" It was Carter again.

"Yes, Carter?"

"Well, since we don't know what kind of ammunition the train's carrying, I think we better set off the explosives underneath the engine."

Hogan looked puzzled. "Why is that, Carter?"

"Well, sir," Carter was fidgeting again, "Since we have to use the detonator, we're going to be close enough to the train that if the ammunition blows up, some of it might fly out and hit us." He paused for a moment, and then pressed on, "But if we blow up the engine, it'll stop the train, and we won't have to worry about that."

Hogan looked at the sergeant for a moment. Then a smile crept over his face. "Good thinking, Carter. All right, we'll do it your way."

Carter was practically beaming. "Thanks, Colonel! You know, I've always had a knack for exploding things. I remember this one time…"

Hogan held up his hand. "Later," he said, not unkindly. Then he dismissed the men and spent the rest of the day thinking over their plan, like he always did, mentally trying to uncover any flaws they might have missed. But none seemed to come to mind, so he decided they would go ahead with it.

That night, after Hogan had climbed up to his bunk, he lay there like he did every night, letting his thoughts drift to Newkirk. His feelings for the Englishman had continued to grow over the past few months, despite every effort he'd made to reject them. In fact, some days he found it difficult to interact with Newkirk, to play it cool, while inside yearning to pull him into his quarters and lock the door. But he knew he couldn't; he had to continue to fight his desire. Their operation – and Newkirk's friendship – was too important to take that kind of chance.

* * * * * *

The next night it was business as usual, and after the final roll call, Hogan and his men took off for the railroad tracks. When they got there, they set the explosives, and then retreated to a spot overlooking the tracks to wait for the train. Carter sat behind the detonator, waiting impatiently to push the plunger down when the train passed by. The other men crouched behind him; Newkirk taking a position next to the Colonel. Hogan could feel Newkirk's arm brushing up against his, and allowed himself a brief, inward smile.

"Blimey, it's cold, ain't it?" Newkirk remarked, rubbing his hands together. "I could use a cup o' tea right about now, if only to warm me 'ands!"

Hogan felt the corporal starting to shiver. "It shouldn't be long now, Newkirk," he remarked.

"I 'ope you're right, Colonel," Newkirk said, leaning against Hogan in an effort to keep warm.

Just then they all heard the whistle of the train coming from somewhere off in the distance.

"There it is, Colonel!" LeBeau exclaimed excitedly.

"Looks like it's right on time, too," Hogan stated, glancing briefly at his watch.

As the train approached, Carter put his hands on the plunger in anticipation.

"Not yet, Carter," Hogan told him, watching the train. "Not yet…"

Just as the engine started to pass over the area where they'd placed the dynamite, Hogan yelled, "Now!"

Carter pushed down on the plunger excitedly, but it didn't budge.

"Now, Carter!" Hogan repeated, looking anxiously at the sergeant.

"I'm trying, Colonel!" Carter shouted in frustration. "It's stuck!"

"Here, let me try!" Hogan exclaimed, and reached for the detonator. He grabbed the plunger and pushed down with all his might. It resisted for a split-second, and then finally began to move.

"No, Colonel!" Carter yelled, "If it goes off now, it'll be right under the ammuni…"

But it was too late. There was a huge explosion, and the train cars that were directly over the blast split open, spewing forth their contents. Whatever ammunition the cars had been carrying went flying in all directions, most of it on fire.

Hogan suddenly realized what he'd done. As he watched the fireballs climb into the air, he looked at his men, thoroughly panicked by now, and yelled, "Run!"

None of them had to be told twice!

They took off running into the woods as fast as they could. The fireballs began to rain down on them, and they had to split off in different directions to avoid getting hit. Hogan was following Newkirk, who had somehow gotten in front of him, when he heard something whistling through the air, coming up behind him.

Newkirk!" Hogan shouted, trying to warn him. "Look out!"

Newkirk stopped and turned around, trying to see what he was supposed to look out for.

Hogan caught up to him and grabbed his arm. "Get down!" He yelled, yanking him toward the ground, causing him to lose his balance. Newkirk landed flat on his back, and Hogan jumped on top of him, forcing a surprised "Umf!" out of the corporal. Newkirk instinctively wrapped his arms around Hogan, who brought his own arms up behind his head, trying to shield them both from the incoming projectile.

At that very second, a large flaming ball flew directly over them, and landed not a hundred feet away. There was a soft thud when it hit, and flames started to pop up on the ground around it.

Hogan waited for a few moments, until he was sure the shower of fireballs was over, and then pushed himself up to look at Newkirk.

"Newkirk, are you okay?" He asked him worriedly.

Newkirk blinked and looked up at Hogan. "I'm all right, Colonel," he answered, absently sliding his arms down until his hands were resting on Hogan's waist. "Blimey, that was a close one, wasn't it?" He turned his head to look briefly at the flaming pile of debris, and then back to Hogan. "Thanks for pullin' me out of the way, gov'nor," he added, smiling up at him, "Looks like I owe you one!"

Hogan stared down at him, his pulse quickening; his adrenalin still flooding his system from the danger that they'd narrowly avoided. He became acutely aware of Newkirk's body underneath him; could feel every corresponding point of contact pressing against his own. Out of nowhere, his desire slammed into him, clouding his mind, giving him the courage to act. He gazed into Newkirk's eyes, wanting desperately to kiss him, unmindful of the fact that his expression was most likely revealing his intentions.

Newkirk stared back, at first growing concerned. "Are you all right, Colonel?" he asked, looking up at him, searching his eyes. Then, as he became aware of what was radiating from Hogan's face, his own eyes began to reflect the same desire. He tightened his grip on Hogan's waist and uttered quietly, "Colonel…"

Hogan felt Newkirk's hands press harder on his waist, and knew he couldn't hold back any longer. He started to lean in, when a noise reached both their ears.

"Colonel! Newkirk!" Kinch called out from somewhere behind them, "Are you guys okay? We've been looking for you!"

Hogan froze. _Dammit! w_as his only thought as he forcibly reigned in his emotions and drew back. He rolled off of Newkirk, but not before catching a glimpse of disappointment in the corporal's eyes. Then he looked up just in time to see Kinch, Carter, and LeBeau appear out of the darkness.

"Oui," LeBeau exclaimed, "We thought something terrible had happened to you!"

_Not as terrible as your timing! _ "We're fine, LeBeau," Hogan responded, trying not to sound as frustrated as he felt, "Just had a close call, that's all." Then another thought occurred to him; _Close call is right! If you guys had shown up a minute later... _Suddenly he found himself relieved that the three men arrived when they did.

"You should 'ave seen it, mates," Newkirk told them as he sat up, "That flamin' pile over there," he pointed at what was left of the debris that had almost hit them, "Came flyin' right over our heads! If the Colonel 'adn't knocked me down…"

"All right," Hogan interrupted, "Let's discuss this back at camp, shall we?" He had gotten to his feet while Newkirk was talking, and was leaning over him slightly, stretching out his hand in order to help the corporal up.

"Yes, sir," Newkirk replied, reaching up and taking hold of the offered hand. He began to stand up and stepped down with his left foot, when suddenly a sharp pain shot through his ankle, throwing him off balance.

Hogan quickly stepped in and grabbed Newkirk, pulling him up and circling his arm behind the corporal's waist to support him. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"It's me ankle…I must 'ave twisted it when I turned around after I 'eard you yell," Newkirk answered, wincing as he tried to put weight on it.

"Here, just lean on me," Hogan said, taking hold of Newkirk's arm with his free hand and guiding it behind his neck. He gripped Newkirk's waist tighter, and felt the corporal shift his weight against him, clamping his hand tightly on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Colonel," Newkirk replied, casting him a grateful look.

The group headed back to camp, Hogan keeping a firm hold on Newkirk, trying to keep him from having to use his injured ankle as much as possible. When they reached the emergency entrance, Carter and LeBeau entered first. Then Kinch climbed down and stayed close to the ladder while Newkirk took his turn, ready to help the Englishman if he needed it. Hogan was last, and after climbing down and once again latching on to Newkirk, led the way to the main tunnel. They changed out of the black clothes that they'd worn for the mission, and headed up to the barracks, intending to grab what sleep they could before morning.

Hogan helped Newkirk over to Carter's bunk, having decided it would be better for the two of them to switch beds for now. Carter and Newkirk readily agreed. Then he retired to his quarters and changed quickly into his pajamas. He hopped up to his own bunk and stretched out, but he was too wound up to sleep. As his mind drifted back to what had passed between him and Newkirk earlier in the evening, he realized with more than a little excitement that Newkirk must feel the same way…he had to! There was no denying that look in the corporal's eyes when he'd leaned in, ready to kiss him. He toyed briefly with the idea of telling him the first chance he got, but then he started to think about all the ramifications of what that would bring; to him, to Newkirk, and to the operation.

Perhaps it was best if he didn't pursue it just yet; the war couldn't last forever, and when it was over he'd be free to express his feelings to him. But that contradicted his resolve to lead a normal life, didn't it? His goal was supposed to be to get married, settle down, and have lots of children. After all, that's what was expected of him.

He turned onto his side, and let out a sigh of frustration. No matter what he decided, it seemed a no-win situation. Well, he wasn't going to solve anything tonight. He closed his eyes, determined to get some rest, but it was a long time before he finally fell asleep.


	4. A dance to remember

AN: I would like to apologize for re-posting this chapter again, but it seems to keep disappearing! I hope this time will be the last.

WARNING: This chapter contains a scene that is rather explicit.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The next morning, just before roll call, Hogan exited his quarters and looked around the barracks, noting that most of the men were dressed and ready to go…with the exception of Newkirk. The corporal was trying to lace his boot on over his injured ankle, but he was having difficulty, judging by his pain-filled expression.

Hogan walked over and looked at him with concern. "Your ankle still hurting, Newkirk?" he asked.

Newkirk glanced up at Hogan. "Yes, sir, and I think it's swollen, too…I can't seem to get me ruddy boot on!"

Hogan studied Newkirk's foot for a moment. Without a word, he turned around and went back to his quarters. He came back a minute later, carrying a pair of his dress shoes. As he held them out to Newkirk, he said, "Here, try these. Your feet look about the same size as mine, and you won't have to worry about trying to get them over your ankle."

Newkirk was as surprised as he was grateful. "Thanks, Colonel," he said, grinning at him. As he took the shoes from Hogan, he flashed him a look; his eyes expressing something that went beyond gratitude. It lasted for only a second, and then it was gone.

Hogan caught it, and before he'd even realized it, he'd reciprocated with a look of his own. Then he mentally shook his head. _No, I can't b_e _doing this! _He quickly changed his expression to neutral. "Yes, well, if you need a hand getting outside, I'm sure Kinch can help you."

"Uh, yes, sir," Newkirk responded, now looking a little bewildered.

Hogan nodded at him, then turned and strode off.

* * * * *

That morning's roll call was uneventful, and thankfully short, for a change. No one even noticed that Newkirk was wearing the wrong footwear for his uniform, or that he appeared to be leaning the entire time, placing all his weight on his right foot. It was most likely due to the earliness of the hour, and the fact that it was still dark when Klink showed up to dismiss them.

After roll call, Hogan sent for Wilson to take a look at Newkirk's ankle. When the medic arrived, he examined the corporal's injury closely. It was indeed swollen and bruised, but didn't appear to be broken; just sprained. He wrapped it tightly and told Newkirk to stay off of it as much as possible for the next few days, repeating his instructions to Hogan when he reported Newkirk's condition to him.

Hogan agreed with Wilson's diagnosis, and reassured the medic he would confine Newkirk to his bunk if he had to, to get him to rest. They both chuckled over that, and then Wilson left, promising he'd be back by the end of the day to re-check Newkirk's ankle.

Of course, during the next roll call, Klink finally noticed that Newkirk was out of uniform, but Hogan quickly explained that the corporal had landed wrong while jumping down from his bunk earlier, and had twisted his ankle; that's why he was wearing shoes instead of his RAF-issued boots. Klink eventually bought it: especially once he saw the bandage wrapped around Newkirk's ankle. He dismissed the prisoners, but before Hogan could slip away, he informed him that he expected the Englander to be back in uniform as soon as possible. Hogan assured Klink that Newkirk would be better in no time, and that seemed to sufficiently placate the Kommandant.

* * * * * *

Newkirk's ankle mended, and several days later, the swelling had gone down, the bruising had faded, and he was able to wear his boots again. He still tended to favor his left ankle, especially when he'd been on his feet for any length of time, but he could get around without too much difficulty. Fortunately their duties had been light, which aided in his recovery; giving him no excuse not to rest.

Hogan kept his distance during that time, not wanting to encourage Newkirk's feelings for him, if that was indeed what he'd seen in his eyes. Oh, how he hated doing it; he'd seen Newkirk looking at him with confusion, but he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't act on his desire; he knew that without a doubt. But it was killing him to have to reject him, when all he wanted to do was grab him and look into his eyes and tell him how crazy he was about him. If there were only someplace they could go after the war, someplace where they could be happy and live the life they wanted…but this was reality; there was no place for them, was there? Not unless they broke the rules, and that wasn't an easy thing to do. He sighed as he thought about it, wishing for the umpteenth time that life didn't have to be so hard.

* * * * *

A few more days passed, and soon enough, Christmas Eve was upon them. They had planned a big celebration, with Colonel Klink's permission, of course, and as evening approached, an air of excitement began circulating among the men. No sooner had the nightly roll call ended, when the recreation hall started filling up with prisoners; intent on taking advantage of a few brief hours of fun.

It didn't take long for the festivities to get underway. Hogan hung out in his quarters for a while, giving the men some time to unwind and start enjoying themselves, before joining in, himself. As he left the barracks, he could hear music blaring from the rec hall before he got half-way across the compound. He recognized Tommy Dorsey and smiled; his music was a particular favorite among the men.

As soon as Hogan entered the rec hall, he could see that everyone was, indeed, enjoying themselves. The majority of the hall had been cleared for use as a dance floor, and most of the men were taking full advantage. Near the door was a long table covered with food, and a few large bowls of 'special' punch that had been concocted by LeBeau and Kinch. Newkirk was filling glasses with the potent potable, periodically adding a little more to his own glass. LeBeau was hovering around the overflowing table, attempting to add a few more plates of food, and Kinch and Carter were standing nearby, watching all the activity. LeBeau was the first to look in Hogan's direction.

"Hey, the Colonel's here!" LeBeau shouted to the group, trying to be heard over the music. The other three looked up towards the door and smiled almost in unison when they saw Hogan. He smiled back, and made his way over to the table.

When Hogan got there, Newkirk looked at him and, with a twinkle in his eyes, handed him a glass. "'Ere, Colonel," he said loudly, "Try some of this."

Hogan accepted the glass, and after eyeing it warily for a moment, took a sip. As he swallowed it, his face puckered and he coughed a few times. "Wow," he sputtered, "It's a bit strong, don't you think? Is there anything in here besides alcohol?"

They all grinned at each other. Kinch leaned over to him and said, "Colonel, you don't want to know!"

LeBeau finally finished arranging the last of the plates of food and came around the table to where Carter was standing. "C'mon Carter, let's dance," he implored, "I haven't been giving you dance lessons for nothing!"

"Well it's about time, Louis," Carter yelled back, "I've been waiting all night!" LeBeau gave him an exasperated look, grabbed his arm, and they were off.

For the next few minutes Hogan, Kinch, and Newkirk watched LeBeau and Carter twirling around the dance floor. "Hey, they're looking pretty good out there, aren't they?" Kinch said at last, surprise evident in his voice.

"Yeah," Newkirk answered, "And I always thought Andrew 'ad two left feet!"

Kinch chuckled, and then looked at Hogan. "Say, Colonel," he ventured, "Why don't you take a turn out there? I've heard you're a good dancer."

Hogan smiled at Kinch. He'd been absently sipping the drink that Newkirk had handed him earlier, and was starting to feel the affects of the alcohol. He found himself actually wanting to join the party, but he also knew that if he stayed too long, or got too tipsy, he might do something he'd regret. His feelings for Newkirk were stronger than ever, and he couldn't afford to let his guard down now. "Actually, Kinch," he replied, quickly coming up with an excuse to leave, "I've got some work to do in my office. I should be getting back."

"But you just got here, Colonel!" Kinch exclaimed, a disappointed expression crossing his face.

"You can't leave now, sir," Newkirk said, looking even more disappointed, "The party's just gettin' started!"

Hogan just shrugged at them and put his glass on the table. The music had stopped while they changed records, and he was about to wave goodnight and head back to the barracks, when the next album began to play. It was Glenn Miller! And one of his favorite songs, "In the Mood", too! He turned to look at Newkirk, who was still looking at him with a rather sad expression. _Oh, what the hell! _He walked over and grabbed Newkirk's arm. "C'mon, Newkirk," he said, smiling at him as he pulled him away from the table, "Let's show 'em how it's done!"

Newkirk couldn't have looked more delighted. He smiled back, his eyes flashing a look at him that seemed to say, _finally_! Hogan led him onto the dance floor, grabbed Newkirk's left hand with his right, and placed his own left hand on Newkirk's waist. Newkirk put his right hand on Hogan's shoulder, and they started to glide across the room, blending into the crowd, Hogan leading. The other men noticed them and smiled to each other; it was good to see the Colonel enjoying himself.

They carried on for a minute or two, when Hogan leaned in a little and said, "Hey Newkirk, you're not bad!"

"You're not so bad yourself, Colonel!" Newkirk answered, grinning at him.

Hogan studied Newkirk's eyes for a moment, then he leaned in again and asked, "How much of that punch did you drink?"

Newkirk looked surprised. "Only one glass," he replied. Then he smiled wide. "Funny thing, that… I never did finish the ruddy thing!"

"Why, Newkirk, you're drunk," Hogan said, flashing him a lopsided grin.

Newkirk shook his head. "Not drunk, sir…just feelin' no pain!"

Just then Newkirk stumbled, belying his last statement. Hogan grabbed him tighter to keep him from falling.

"Now, what was that you were saying?" Hogan replied, smirking at him.

"Oh, it wasn't the drink what caused that," Newkirk said, "It was me ankle. It's still a bit weak, isn't it?"

"C'mon," Hogan started guiding him over to the wall where some empty chairs had been placed, "I think you'd better sit the next one out."

"If it's all the same to you," Newkirk replied, "I think I'd rather go on back to the barracks."

Hogan looked at him with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, sir. It's just, I think you're right…I might 'ave had a wee drop too much to drink. Me head's spinnin', and now me ankle's a bit sore."

Hogan nodded. "All right, Newkirk, the barracks it is." He began to lead him toward the door, when Newkirk stopped him.

"I can make it there, meself, gov'nor. Why don't you stay 'ere and enjoy the party?"

"That's okay," Hogan smiled at him, "I've got things to do back in my office, anyway. I'll walk you back."

As they approached the door, Kinch walked up, looking concerned. "Something wrong, Colonel?"

"Just Newkirk's ankle," Hogan told him, "It's bothering him a little. I'm taking him back to the barracks."

"Are you coming back to the party, sir?" Kinch asked.

"No, I still have some work to do." Then he gave Kinch a serious look. "I'm leaving you in charge. I want you to keep an eye on things, and above all…"

"Yes, sir?"

Hogan smiled. "Have fun!"

"Will do, Colonel," Kinch replied, smiling back.

Hogan then grabbed Newkirk's arm gently and led him outside, staying close to him just in case. Luckily, Newkirk didn't stumble, although by the time they got to the barracks, the corporal was noticeably limping. Once inside, Hogan kept walking with Newkirk in tow until they reached his quarters. He guided him over to his lower bunk, and gestured for him to take a seat.

Newkirk did, and looked up at Hogan curiously. "Why did you bring me in 'ere, gov'nor?" he asked.

"I figured it would be easier to check your ankle in here, before you hop up to your bunk." Hogan knelt down in front of Newkirk and started to untie his boot.

"Blimey, Colonel, I can do that, meself!" Newkirk started to reach down at the same instant Hogan looked up at him, and suddenly his hands were on Hogan's face.

Hogan looked into his eyes, thinking the corporal had been aiming for his boot and missed. Considering Newkirk's present condition, it was certainly plausible. But as he continued to search Newkirk's eyes, he saw them glaze over with unmasked and unmistakable desire. Before he could react, Newkirk leaned down and, still holding Hogan's face firmly, pressed his lips against the colonel's own.

Hogan gasped in surprise, which prompted Newkirk to kiss him harder, thrusting his tongue into Hogan's mouth. Hogan knew he should stop this right now, but, to his astonishment, his hands seemed to be slowly traveling up Newkirk's arms instead. He started to rise, leaning forward as he did, not wanting to break the kiss; his arms encircling the corporal as he did so.

Newkirk moaned softly and let go of Hogan's face, sliding his hands down and around him, pulling him closer as he felt the colonel's arms embracing him.

Hogan gently pushed Newkirk back, turning him slightly to help him lie on the bunk. Then he climbed on top of him, and began to kiss him passionately, intertwining his tongue with Newkirk's.

Newkirk moaned again and wrapped his arms tighter around Hogan, sliding one of his hands up behind the colonel's head and running his fingers through his thick, black hair. Then he brought his arm down and started to run his hands over Hogan's body, feeling every bump and curve underneath his uniform.

They lay that way for a few moments, kissing fervently, tentatively exploring each other with their hands. Then Hogan broke away from Newkirk's mouth, and began to kiss his neck softly, while sliding his hand down to the corporal's waist. He stuck his hand underneath Newkirk's shirt, running it briefly up to his chest, and then back down, coming to rest on the waistband of his trousers.

Newkirk reached down to unfasten his pants, and Hogan rolled off of him, getting up and moving over to the door to lock it. Then he quickly undressed, noticing Newkirk was doing the same.

Hogan crawled back onto the bunk, sidling up to Newkirk and wrapping his arms around him. As he drew him close, he gazed into his eyes for a moment, and then kissed him, once again tasting his mouth, his tongue...his desire.

Newkirk reciprocated, sliding his arms around Hogan, bringing his hands up behind the colonel's muscular back. He gripped him tightly as they kissed, and then began to run his hand lightly along Hogan's back, smiling as he felt Hogan shiver. Then he pulled away from the colonel's mouth and leaned in, drawing his lips lightly across Hogan's neck.

Hogan was thrilling to Newkirk's touch; the feel of his hand moving along his body, his lips caressing his neck. Newkirk looked up at him and Hogan kissed him again, locking their lips together tightly. He pressed his hand against Newkirk's back, pulling him more firmly against himself, and could feel Newkirk responding, growing against him. He slid his hand down Newkirk's body, and was rewarded with a shiver running through the Englishman this time. He felt Newkirk's fingers press harder against his back as he ran his hand over his hip, then glided it around until his palm lay against Newkirk's stomach. He held his hand there briefly, then slid it lower, his fingers wrapping around their destination, and began to stroke his erection.

Newkirk moaned into Hogan's mouth, feeling his control slipping further from his grasp with every passing moment. He brought his arm down and wrapped his hand around Hogan's own hardness, feeling how close he must be, moving his hand up and down gently but firmly. He knew he wouldn't hold out much longer himself, Hogan's touch exciting him beyond the point of no return...

Hogan watched as Newkirk fell over the edge, breathing heavily as he came, and it was that sight, along with what Newkirk's hand was doing, that forced Hogan's own orgasm, moaning as he pressed Newkirk closer and kissed him desperately.

They lay together afterward, their arms around each other. Hogan leaned in and kissed Newkirk's neck gently, feeling him shiver again. Then he pulled his head back and gazed into Newkirk's eyes. "Peter, I…" He said at last, his voice trailing off as he found himself at a loss for words.

Newkirk smiled sleepily at him. "I know, gov'nor," he replied softly.

Hogan smiled back. "You took a real chance, you know," he told him.

"One of us 'ad to!" Newkirk said, chuckling a little. Then he let out a huge yawn.

Hogan wasn't surprised to see how tired Newkirk was. "You'd better get some sleep, Peter," he said, and then, reluctantly, he got up and started to get dressed.

Newkirk did the same, and when he'd finished, he turned to look at Hogan.

Hogan moved in and wrapped his arms around Newkirk once more, drawing him close.

Newkirk hugged him back, giving him a quick squeeze, and then pulled away. He turned and headed for the door, but before he left, he looked back one more time and gazed briefly at Hogan, his eyes speaking volumes. Then he walked out into the main barracks, shutting the door behind him.

Hogan stood there for a few moments, staring at the closed door. Then he hopped up onto his bunk, already missing the feel of Newkirk's body against his. He lay there, letting his thoughts swirl around in his brain, trying to process everything that just happened; convinced he was going to be awake all night. But a few minutes later he drifted off to sleep, and somewhere deep in his subconscious mind, he couldn't have been more surprised.


	5. Newkirk's story

WARNING: This chapter contains another scene that is pretty explicit.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

The next thing Hogan knew, LeBeau was knocking on his door, waking him up for roll call. He opened his eyes and, after acknowledging to the Frenchman that he was awake, stretched his arms and yawned, trying to remember the last time he'd felt this good. Then he realized he'd slept straight through the night, which was a rare occurrence for him. He thought back to the previous night's activities and smiled; that must be why.

Newkirk. Just thinking about him brought a rush of emotions that seemed to come out of nowhere, hitting him from all sides. Oh, how good it felt to have been with him at last, the way he'd wanted to for so long. Now that he'd held him, and kissed him, and had his hands on him, he didn't want to imagine a future without him.

He sat up on his bunk and swung his legs over the side. As he jumped down to the floor, his thoughts rudely brought him back to reality, and as much as he didn't want to face them right now, he knew they couldn't be ignored. Could he really afford to have a relationship with Newkirk right now? There was a war going on, and they still had a mission to do. Not to mention how they were going to hide it from the other guys. And that thought opened up a whole new can of worms…they were still in the military, and there was protocol to consider. Dating a corporal was a strict no-no for an officer, whether it be a man or a woman. And not only was he in Newkirk's chain of command, he was his commanding officer!

As he finished putting on his uniform, he shook his head slowly. No, he couldn't…he mustn't pursue it. His heart was already breaking at the thought of telling Newkirk, but, deep down, he knew he had no choice.

Hogan exited his quarters, and glanced around the barracks slowly, saving his last look for Newkirk. As his eyes lighted on the corporal, his heart started beating faster, and he unconsciously held his breath for a few moments. Then he mentally shook his head and plastered a look of neutrality on his face. If there was one thing he'd learned from all the years of keeping his secret hidden, it was how to mask his emotions.

At that moment Newkirk looked over at him. Their eyes met, and Hogan thought he picked up an almost imperceptible wink coming from the corporal. He forced himself to keep his own expression passive as he walked toward him.

"How's your ankle this morning, Newkirk?" he asked in a very business-like voice.

"Much better, sir," Newkirk responded normally.

Hogan nodded. "That's good."

Just then the barracks' door swung open, and Schultz entered in his usual fashion. "Raus, raus, everyone outside for roll call, schnell!"

The men began piling out, grumbling when the cold hit them. Hogan stepped back to let them through, preferring to be the last one to leave the barracks. He noticed Newkirk joining in the mass exodus without so much as a glance in his direction, and he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

After roll call, LeBeau started working on breakfast, while the rest of the gang took their seats at the table. Before Kinch sat down, he filled their coffee cups and passed one to each of the seated men.

Carter looked at Newkirk, who was sitting next to him, and then across the table at Hogan. "Boy, you guys missed a great party!" he blurted out while glancing between them.

"Yeah, Colonel," Kinch said, sitting down next to Hogan. "I'd say all the men had a good time."

"Except for Johnson and McFee," LeBeau piped up from the stove, "They almost got into a fight."

"Yeah, that's right!" Carter exclaimed, remembering. "They even started throwing punches at each other. But Kinch stepped in and got them to stop, and then he made them leave."

"Oui, you should have seen it! As soon as Kinch broke them apart, they saw how angry he was, and stopped right away."

Upon hearing that, Hogan initially felt bad; he should have been there to take care of it himself. But then, that's why he'd left Kinch in charge, wasn't it? He knew the sergeant could handle it, and he was right. "Good job, Kinch," he told him, "Sounds like you took care of things just fine."

"Thank you, sir," Kinch replied calmly, his eyes shining from the unexpected praise.

"Oh, and I hope we didn't wake you when we came back to the barracks, Colonel," Carter said, "We _were _kind of noisy."

Hogan smiled at him. "No, you didn't wake me. I didn't hear a thing."

"Well, _I_ 'eard you, mate!" Newkirk interjected, "You and all the other blokes what came stumblin' in after the party!"

"Oh, sorry, Newkirk," Carter apologized, "We didn't mean to."

Newkirk's expression softened. "I know, and I can't say as I blame you. If me ankle 'adn't been given me trouble, I would 'ave been right there with you; makin' most of the noise!"

That got a chuckle out of everyone.

"That reminds me," Hogan said when they'd grown quiet again, "Newkirk, I'm going to have Wilson take a look at your ankle."

"But it's feeling much better this morning, sir," Newkirk replied.

"Maybe, but it still wouldn't hurt to have Wilson check it. After breakfast, I want you to go to my office, and Carter," he said, looking at his demolitions expert, "I want you to go fetch Sergeant Wilson and bring him back to the barracks."

"Right now, Colonel?" Carter asked.

Hogan smiled. "After breakfast, Carter."

* * * * *

When they were through with their morning meal, Carter went to fetch Wilson, while Newkirk followed Hogan to his office. After Hogan closed the door, he motioned for Newkirk to take a seat on the lower bunk, giving both of them a momentary sense of déjà vu. Then he leaned against his desk, facing the corporal, and stared at him for a moment. He saw the confusion growing in Newkirk's eyes, and at last he heaved a sigh, folded his arms and said, "Newkirk, what happened last night…"

"Cor!" Newkirk blurted out, his eyes widening in understanding, "Blimey, Colonel, you're not goin' to say what I think you're goin' to say…are you?"

Hogan dropped the pretense. "Newkirk, we can't do this! Don't you understand what's at stake here?"

"Course I do!" Newkirk jumped up from his seat. "And I know 'ow to keep me mouth shut…I've been doin' it most of me life!" Then he closed the distance between them and grabbed Hogan's arms. "Don't you understand 'ow hard it is for the likes of us to find someone?" he said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper, "Someone who feels the same…"

Hogan searched Newkirk's eyes, wanting desperately to wrap his arms tightly around him and kiss him until he couldn't breathe anymore. But his sense of duty held its ground, and instead he replied, "This isn't the time or the place…"

"Oh, it's not, is it?" Newkirk responded sarcastically, "Funny, that didn't stop you last night."

"Newkirk…"

Just then they heard a knock on the door. Hogan glanced at the bunk and lifted his chin, gesturing for Newkirk to go back and sit down.

Newkirk stared at him for a moment longer. Then he complied, plopping down on the bunk and casting his gaze to the floor.

"Come in," Hogan called out.

The door to Hogan's office opened, and in stepped Wilson. "You wanted to see me, Colonel?" he asked.

"Yeah, Wilson, Newkirk hurt his ankle again last night. I thought you should take a look at it."

"Sure thing, Colonel," Wilson replied. He walked over to Newkirk, who was already removing his boot. Then he crouched down and ran his hand over the injured ankle, pulling the sock down to check for any discoloration. "Doesn't look too bad, Newkirk," he said, "It's only slightly swollen, and I don't see any bruising." He leaned back and stood up, letting the corporal fix his sock and put his boot back on. "How does it feel?" he asked when Newkirk was finished.

"I already told the colonel it feels much better today, but you know 'ow he is!" Newkirk replied, smiling at Wilson.

"Yes, I do," Wilson said, grinning. Then he turned to look at Hogan. "It looks okay, Colonel. As long as he doesn't overdo it, he shouldn't have any problems."

"All right, thanks, Wilson," Hogan said, "I just wanted to be sure."

"Anytime, sir," Wilson replied, and as Hogan guided him to the door, he whispered, "You're starting to turn into a real mother hen, did you know that?"

Hogan scowled at him. "That will be all, Sergeant," he responded curtly as Wilson headed out the door.

"Yes, sir," Wilson said, looking apologetically at Hogan.

Hogan's expression softened. "Sorry, Wilson, I just worry about my men."

Wilson smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Hogan smiled back, then he bid Wilson goodbye and closed the door. When he turned around, he saw Newkirk standing there, looking like he was ready to leave.

"If you don't need me, sir, I'd best be on me way." Newkirk stated crisply.

"Peter…" Hogan could see the hurt in Newkirk's eyes, and he couldn't bear it. He grabbed him and planted his lips on him, pulling him tightly against himself. As his kiss deepened, he felt Newkirk respond, wrapping his own arms around him. They stood that way for a minute or two, gripping each other tightly, tongues in each other's mouths, until at last Hogan reluctantly pulled away. He gazed at Newkirk for a moment, and then spoke.

"I can't make any promises, Peter," he said softly.

Newkirk nodded. "Then we'll take it one day at a time, gov'nor."

Hogan smiled. "Call me Rob."

"All right, Rob," Newkirk replied, grinning.

They still had their arms around each other, and as Hogan was staring into Newkirk's green eyes, he suddenly found his mind filling up with questions. "So, how did you…I mean, when did you know you were…" he faltered, not sure how to ask them.

Newkirk opened his mouth to reply, when they heard someone knock on the door. He let go of Hogan and took a few steps back.

Hogan turned toward the door. "Come in," he said loudly.

Kinch opened the door and walked in. "Got a message from London, Colonel," he told him, "They want us to meet with one of their operatives tomorrow evening at the Hofbrau. He's got some secret information to pass to us. He'll be dressed as a Luftwaffe officer…" he looked down at the notebook in his hand, "Captain Schmidt."

"Now there's an original name for you!" Newkirk smirked.

Kinch glanced up at Newkirk and grinned, then looked back at the notebook. "The recognition code is, 'Nice night for a walk', and he's supposed to say, 'In the spring, I always take my dog'."

Hogan rolled his eyes. "Oh, brother!"

They all laughed at that.

"Okay," Hogan said when they'd regained their composure, "I'll go, and…" he looked over at his Englishman, "How 'bout it, Newkirk? Feel up to a little stroll into town?"

"Can I take me dog, sir?" Newkirk replied with a straight face.

That got them all laughing again.

When they finally settled down, Hogan said, "I think we'll go as Luftwaffe. Newkirk, see if we have a couple of uniforms; say, for a captain and a lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," Newkirk replied, and headed out the door.

"Kinch," Hogan turned to his radioman, "Contact London. Tell them I'll be using the name, Captain Hoganmeier."

"Right away, Colonel," Kinch said, and he, too, left the room.

After the men had gone, Hogan sat down at his desk, once again pondering over his choices, wondering if he'd made the right decision. But then he thought about Newkirk, and suddenly his doubts drifted away. Yeah, somehow, they'd make it work; he couldn't go back to being alone.

* * * * * *

The next night, after roll call, Hogan and Newkirk went down to the tunnel and changed into the uniforms that Newkirk had prepared for them. Then they walked to the emergency exit, and slipped out into the night. It was bitterly cold, but at least it was clear, and the full moon seemed to be casting its glow more brightly than usual. They had little trouble making their way through the woods, and in no time they arrived at the Hofbrau.

After they entered, they spotted their contact right away; he was seated at a table by himself, and appeared to be the only Luftwaffe officer in the place. They nonchalantly made their way over to him, asking if he would like some company. He gestured to the empty chairs on the other side of the table and they took a seat. Once they'd finished with the introductions, Hogan gave him the recognition code, and he replied with the correct answer.

The agent then discreetly slipped Hogan an envelope under the table, which Hogan shoved into the coat of his uniform. The three men exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes longer, and then Hogan and Newkirk rose, Hogan expressing his regret that they couldn't stay longer, but they had some pressing business to attend to. Then the two disguised Allied prisoners left; relieved that it had gone so smoothly.

They returned the way they came, picking their way through the woods. They were about halfway back to camp when Hogan, who was in the lead, stopped and turned around.

Newkirk, who was right behind him, stopped suddenly to keep from bumping into him. "Somethin' wrong, Colonel?" he asked, looking at him with concern.

"No, nothing's wrong," Hogan replied quietly, "I just remembered; there's an abandoned barn near here, isn't there?"

"Yes, sir," Newkirk's confusion was growing, "I think it's just over that rise, there," he said, glancing to his right and pointing at a small nearby hill.

Hogan stepped closer and put his hands on Newkirk's shoulders. He leaned in a little and, dropping his voice to almost a whisper, said, "What do you say we go warm up a little before going back to camp?"

A smile crept over Newkirk's face as he realized what Hogan was alluding to. "Lead the way, gov'nor," he replied.

Hogan grinned at him, his eyes dancing with lust. Then he turned and headed up the hill, Newkirk following. As they crested the top, they saw the barn, which was about a hundred yards away, and headed straight for it. When they got there, they went inside, and briefly scouted it out to make sure they were alone. Satisfied, Hogan went over to the large metal drum in the center of the barn, and looked inside. There were some leftover chunks of charred wood from a previous fire; someone else had apparently used it to get warm. Hogan looked around the barn, and noticed a small pile of cut wood and kindling in the corner. He went over and grabbed some of the kindling and dropped it into the drum. Then he picked up a handful of straw and turned to Newkirk.

"You got any matches on you?" He asked.

One side of Newkirk's mouth rose. "Now that's a silly question, ain't it? Don't I always?" He reached into his pocket, pulled out some matches and handed them to Hogan.

Hogan smirked at him. Then he struck a match and lit the hay he was holding, and threw it into the drum. The kindling caught quickly, and soon they had a nice little fire going.

Newkirk stood close to the drum while Hogan went to get some more kindling. The warmth from the fire felt good after traipsing around outside in the freezing cold.

Hogan came back and threw the kindling onto the growing fire. Then he removed his coat and uniform cover, and tossed them aside. He walked over to Newkirk and circled behind him, reaching up and putting his hands on the corporal's shoulders, massaging them briefly. He then grasped Newkirk's coat and held it up as the Englishman pulled his arms free. He threw it on top of his own coat, and it was followed a second later by Newkirk's cover. Then he slid his arms around the corporal and started to kiss the back of his neck. He felt Newkirk grab his arms and lean back against him. Hogan thrust out his tongue and began to run it across Newkirk's neck, under his ear, and down to the bend where his shoulder started, pulling his shirt collar out of the way as he went.

Newkirk moaned slightly, and then turned around in Hogan's arms and pressed his lips against the colonel's. Hogan returned the kiss, pulling him tightly to himself. Then he brought one of his hands around and slowly ran it down Newkirk's front, coming to rest on what was growing underneath his pants. He started to rub him there, feeling him respond.

Newkirk gripped Hogan tighter, kissing him passionately. Then he reached down and unfastened his pants. After he shoved them down, he placed his hands on Hogan's chest and looked at him; his eyes drunk with desire.

Hogan gazed back while he once again ran his hand down Newkirk's body, his fingers wrapping around his erection. As Hogan stroked him, Newkirk moaned and leaned in, kissing him hard, sliding his arms around him and pressing his hands against his back. Hogan continued to move his hand up and down, faster and faster, until Newkirk broke away from his mouth, breathing rapidly; wet heat splashing over Hogan's hand.

Hogan let go, and pulled Newkirk close, kissing his neck softly. He held him for a minute, feeling him slowly relax, and then leaned back and looked into his eyes.

Newkirk gazed back. Then he bent down and pulled his pants up, buttoning them and tucking in his shirt. When he was through, he slid his arms around Hogan and put his mouth to the colonel's ear. "Your turn, Rob," he whispered.

Hogan wrapped his arms around Newkirk as the corporal began to kiss his neck. He felt Newkirk stick out his tongue and begin to draw it slowly along his skin, and he moaned softly. As Newkirk's mouth gradually traveled towards his own, he felt the Englishman's hand slide around to the front, bringing it down to his growing excitement. Newkirk started to rub him, while simultaneously pressing his lips to his own, thrusting his tongue into his mouth.

Hogan moaned louder, then reached down to undo his pants. When he'd pushed them out of the way, he felt Newkirk's hand latch onto his growing hardness briefly, sliding his hand up and down, then he let go and leaned back slightly. Without a word, he lowered himself to his knees, looking into Hogan's eyes the whole time. Then he grabbed Hogan's erection, and leaned in, taking it into his mouth.

Hogan watched him, watched his head move in and out, felt his soft, wet mouth wrapped around his penis, and his mind let go, letting the sensations course through him. He placed his hand on Newkirk's head, subtly guiding him, watching as he began to move faster, feeling himself getting closer and closer. All of a sudden he called out, "Peter…" in a low, breathless voice, and Newkirk pulled away, replacing his mouth with his hand, bringing Hogan to a finish. As Hogan came, he felt waves of ecstasy coursing through his body with an intensity he didn't think he'd ever felt before.

Newkirk stood up and Hogan circled his arms around him, pulling him close, holding him tightly as his senses returned to normal. "Peter, that was…amazing," he breathed into his ear.

Newkirk hugged him back. "Thought you'd like that," he replied, smiling over Hogan's shoulder.

Hogan held him a minute longer, then loosened his grip and leaned back. He searched Newkirk's eyes for a moment, and then said, "I take it I'm not the first."

Newkirk slowly shook his head. "No, you're not."

Hogan nodded slightly, then let go of Newkirk and bent down to pull his trousers up. After he fastened them and got his uniform back in order, he grabbed Newkirk's hand and led him over to the bench near the wall of the barn. They both sat down, and Hogan waited patiently for Newkirk to tell his story.

Newkirk clasped his hands on his lap and stared out into the barn for a few moments. At last he spoke. "I guess I've known most of me life that I was different," he told Hogan, "Me mates in school were always goin' on about girls, but I never did fancy 'em the way they did." He glanced briefly at Hogan, "Oh, I've done me share of datin' birds, mind you, but that was mostly so's to fit in."

Hogan was rather surprised to hear how similar Newkirk's story was to his own. "Yeah, same here," he said, nodding at him.

Newkirk went back to staring at the other side of the barn, a faraway look appearing in his eyes. "I thought that's 'ow me life was goin' to be; wantin' somethin' I could never 'ave. But then I met someone…" he looked at Hogan and hesitated.

"Go on," Hogan encouraged him.

"His name was John Smith," Newkirk said, and then smiled when he saw the smirk appear on Hogan's face. "I know what you're thinkin', but that's his real name. I met 'im when I worked with the circus; he was a juggler...and a pretty amazin' one at that! He and I, well, we 'ad a thing goin', if you know what I mean. But then his mum died, and he 'ad to go back 'ome to 'elp take care of his three younger sisters. I never saw 'im again."

"Do you miss him?" Hogan asked.

Newkirk shook his head. "No, that was a long time ago. Oh, I did at first; I…liked 'im, you know? But he wasn't the type of bloke what took things seriously. I knew I was just a passin' fling to 'im." He looked down at his hands and let out a sigh. "After he left, I figured I'd just 'ave to get used to bein' alone… not many choices out there for a poor sod like me, is there?" He looked back at Hogan and stared intently into eyes. "But then you showed up, and I couldn't 'elp bein' interested. And when you started lookin' at me, and puttin' your 'ands on me all the time, I knew you felt the same." Then a smile broke out on his face, "I 'ad to do somethin'…"

Hogan looked at him, surprised and a little embarrassed. "Was I that obvious?"

Newkirk's smile widened, "Only to me, Rob."

Hogan smiled back, and then his eyes narrowed slightly, "Did you really hurt your ankle at the dance? Or was that just a ploy to get me alone?"

"You sure you want to know?" Newkirk countered, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Hogan chuckled. Then he reached up and placed his hand gently on Newkirk's cheek. He leaned in and kissed him softly, lingering for a few moments. Then he pulled back and gazed into his eyes. "Either way, I'm glad you did, Peter," he said quietly.

They sat there a minute longer, just staring at each other, telling each other more with their eyes than words could ever say. Then Hogan sighed and said, "We'd better be getting back to camp."

Newkirk nodded. As he got up to leave, he walked over and picked up his uniform coat and cover and, after brushing off the dirt, put them on.

Hogan did the same, then he went over to check the metal drum and saw that the fire had already burned itself out. He shivered suddenly as he felt the cold starting to creep back into his body. Newkirk must have noticed, because he stepped up and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly, rubbing his hand briefly up and down his back. Hogan returned the hug, giving him a quick squeeze. Then they released each other, headed to the door, and slipped out into the darkness; setting their course for Stalag Thirteen.


	6. The secret's out

**Chapter 6**

For the next few months, Hogan found as many ways as possible to get Newkirk alone without arousing suspicion. When they went out on missions, he'd more often than not pair himself up with the Englishman. Many times they would return a bit later than expected, but it was easy enough to blame that on German patrol activity in the area, or their contact arriving late. Of course, sometimes Hogan would grab a few minutes with Newkirk in his office, or down in the tunnels when there was no one else around. Their time together was sporadic and limited, but he relished every rendezvous, no matter how brief.

After a few months of sneaking around; however, he began to wonder if this was something he could do for the rest of his life. Granted, the circumstances they were living under now were making it more difficult; once the war ended and they were living on their own, it would be much easier to hide their relationship, and still get plenty of time to be together. But that was only if they both got out of the military, and he had planned to make it his career; he was more than eager to return to the skies. How could he keep seeing Newkirk if he started flying again? That was the question that began to gnaw at him incessantly.

Another month went by, and his doubts were still growing. On the few occasions that he and Newkirk had a chance to talk, he'd remained non-committal about their future together, preferring to just enjoy what little time they did manage to get alone. Then one night they received instructions to meet with a contact at the Hammelburg Hotel, and he naturally decided to volunteer himself, and take Newkirk with him. (1) As soon as they got to the hotel room, they waited until their contact came and went, and then wasted no time taking advantage of the private room, the comfortable bed…and each other. When they were relaxing afterward, Newkirk suddenly surprised him by bringing up the future; wondering aloud if he would consider running a pub with him in London after the war. He ended up giving him the only answer he could think of; the safe answer, the predictable answer, the one where he was going to stay in the Army Air Corps, get married, and raise a family. After all, it was the future that was expected of him – the family part, anyway – and it was rapidly becoming the one he wanted least of all.

They traveled in silence on their way back from the hotel. Hogan could tell that Newkirk was upset, and he knew why. He racked his brain, trying to think of anything he could say that would make Newkirk feel better, but there was nothing. Just before they reached the tree stump entrance to the tunnel, he grabbed Newkirk's arm and pulled him around to face him.

"Peter…" Hogan searched his eyes briefly, and still no words would come. Instead he pulled Newkirk close and kissed him, running his hand up behind the corporal's head, holding it firmly so he could press his lips harder against him.

Newkirk responded, circling his arms around Hogan, holding him tight; returning his kiss with a passion. After a minute they broke away from each other, and with one last knowing glance, turned and headed for the tunnels.

* * * * *

The months marched on and the missions multiplied, all of which continued to be successfully carried out. Time both dragged and passed too quickly for Hogan; he wanted the war to end soon, but he wanted his time with Newkirk to last as long as possible. D-Day came and went, and still they had more jobs to do. He continued to take advantage of every opportunity to spend some alone time with Newkirk, thankful that no one ever seemed the wiser. The future never did come up in their conversation again, and Hogan wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. The tide of war continued to shift, and soon it became obvious that the Allies were going to win.

Then one night, late in February of 1945, they got a message from the Underground to meet with an agent in an abandoned barn that was located halfway between the camp and the Hofbrau. Hogan knew exactly which barn they were referring to, and it was all he could do to keep from winking at Newkirk, who seemed to be resisting the urge to do the same. Hogan volunteered to go, and picked Newkirk to accompany him. The Englishman predictably voiced his reluctance, but Hogan knew it was all an act…they had to keep up appearances.

The meeting was scheduled for the following evening, and when the time came for them to leave, they slipped out of camp dressed in civilian clothes and headed for the barn. The contact was already there waiting for them, and after he divulged the information he had for them regarding some crucial German troop movements, he took off. Hogan and Newkirk lingered, virtually repeating what they'd done in that barn the last time. Then they returned to camp; arriving a few minutes before the nightly roll call.

When they reached the main tunnel area, they didn't see anyone around, and figured Kinch had already gone up to the barracks. They quickly changed out of their civilian outfits, and into their uniforms. As Newkirk started to head for the ladder, Hogan reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back. He circled around in front of him, and pressed him up against the wall. Then he placed his hands on Newkirk's face, leaned in and kissed him, twirling his tongue in the corporal's mouth, feeling him respond in kind. Newkirk slid his arms around Hogan, pulling him tight. Their kiss deepened, and just when Hogan felt his lower half starting to become interested, he broke away from Newkirk's mouth and brought his hands down to the Englishman's shoulders.

Hogan cleared his throat and said in a low, husky voice, "We, ah, better get up to the barracks before Schultz shows up."

Newkirk leaned in and kissed Hogan's neck, then, bringing his mouth up to the colonel's ear, whispered, "Schultzie can wait."

Hogan felt Newkirk's hot breath tickling his ear, and it sent a delightful shiver through him. He brought his head back and kissed Newkirk again, running his hand up behind the corporal's head. But, as much as he wanted to finish what he'd started, he knew he couldn't take the chance. He pulled away from Newkirk's mouth and said quietly, "Schultz can wait, but roll call can't."

Newkirk sighed. "I suppose you're right, Rob."

Hogan smiled seductively at him. "Don't worry; I'm sure I can think of something to get us alone together soon." He reached down and grabbed Newkirk's behind, giving it a gentle squeeze while pressing himself tightly against him.

Newkirk grinned. "You're insatiable, you know that?"

"Only when it comes to you, Peter," Hogan replied.

Newkirk chuckled. Then they looked into each other's eyes a moment longer, and headed up the ladder.

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of eyes watched them leave, having witnessed their show of affection. The man waited for a few minutes, trying to overcome the shock of what he'd just seen, and then, upon hearing Schultz's bellowing above him, waited until it grew quiet overhead and scrambled up the ladder.

"Dreizehn, vierzehn…" Schultz counted as he got to the end where Hogan's men usually stood, "Colonel Hogan, I only count fourteen men," Schultz stated nervously, "Where is number fifteen?"

"What?" Hogan asked, looking as surprised as Schultz, "We're all here…at least, we should be." He looked behind him and saw an empty spot. "Where's Carter?" he hissed.

Just then Carter emerged from the barracks and slunk along behind the line of men until he reached his usual spot.

"Carter, where were you?" Hogan whispered loudly to him.

"Uh, s-sorry Colonel," Carter stammered, "I was in the latrine."

"Oh, Carter, there you are, I didn't see you!" Schultz exclaimed, then he looked at Hogan, "It looks like you have fifteen men, after all, Colonel Hogan."

"Didn't I tell you, Schultz?" Hogan answered matter-of-factly.

They stood there a while longer, until Klink finally graced them with his presence. Once they were dismissed, they shuffled back into the barracks, grateful for the chance to warm up after standing outside in the bitter cold for half an hour. Hogan passed the information that he'd received from the contact to Kinch, who went below and sent it to London right away. When the radioman returned to the barracks, it was already time for lights out. The men all climbed into their respective bunks and stretched out, hoping to get a decent night's sleep.

No one seemed to notice that Carter hadn't spoken a single word since roll call.

* * * * * *

The next morning started out like all the others; shivering outside for almost an hour in the freezing, pre-dawn darkness, waiting for Klink to show up for a whopping whole minute – just long enough to dismiss them – and finally hurrying back to the relative warmth of the barracks.

LeBeau started to make breakfast, using what meager rations he had on hand; their supplies had been dwindling as the war continued to shift in favor of the Allies. He also passed out cups of the weak coffee he'd made earlier; he'd begun to add less coffee each time in an attempt to conserve what little they had left.

Carter still wasn't talking, and it was during breakfast that his silence finally became noticeable to the others.

"Somethin' wrong, Andrew?" Newkirk, who was sitting next to him, asked, looking concerned. "You 'aven't said a word all mornin'."

Carter shot him a quick glance, then wrapped his hands around his coffee cup and stared at the brownish-colored liquid inside. "Nothing's wrong," he answered, his tone belying his words, "I just got a lot on my mind, is all."

"Well, what is it?" Newkirk wouldn't let it go. "C'mon, you can tell your ol' mate, Peter Newkirk, 'ere," he reached up and threw his arm around Carter's shoulders.

Carter shrugged him off and abruptly stood up. "I said I'm all right!" he shouted, sounding more shocked than angry. Then he turned and stomped over to the false-bottom bunk, banging his hand hard on the lever to open it. As soon as it opened, he disappeared below.

"What's the matter with Carter?" LeBeau asked.

Newkirk slowly shook his head. "You got me, Louis."

Hogan frowned. "Has anyone noticed him acting strange lately?"

"No, sir," Kinch answered, "He's been his usual smiling self…until this morning."

The men looked at each other for a moment, their expressions filled with concern. At last Newkirk piped up, "Maybe I should go 'ave a talk with him."

"I think I better do that," Hogan said. Then he rose from the table and headed down to the tunnel.

Hogan found Carter in his lab, fiddling with some device on his worktable. As he drew closer, it looked like the sergeant was working on one of the timers he used with the explosives.

"Carter, is there something wrong?" Hogan asked him, aware of the pained expression on Carter's face.

Carter looked up, staring at him for a moment. "Actually, yes, sir, it's…" he started, and suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

"Hey, Carter, you can talk to me," Hogan said, trying to reassure him, "That's what I'm here for."

Carter hesitated a moment longer. Then he heaved a sigh and began to speak. "Well, sir, you see, I was working on this timer last night," he put his hand on the device in front of him, "And I guess I was really tired, because I fell asleep. Anyway, I woke up when I heard voices, and realized you and Newkirk were back from the mission. I was about to come out and see how it went, when I peeked into the main tunnel, and I saw…" his voice trailed off.

Hogan paled; he knew what was coming next. "Go on," he heard himself say.

Carter looked at him with the most confused expression that had ever surfaced on his face. "I saw you and Newkirk…kissing! I…didn't know what to do, so I waited until you left, and then I went up for roll call. Colonel, I don't understand," he looked at Hogan beseechingly, "I mean, you're both…well, men aren't supposed to do that with each other!"

Hogan grabbed a nearby stool and pulled it over next to Carter. As he sank down onto it, he tried desperately to think of what to say to him. "You're right, Carter," he finally said, "Men don't normally do that with each other. But there are some men out there who are…attracted to other men."

"You mean, homosexuals, don't you?"

Hogan looked surprised. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. So you _do_ know what I'm talking about."

"Yes, sir," Carter said, "But I always thought men like that, well, acted strange, you know? Kind of like the way girls act. But you and Newkirk aren't like that at all. And besides, you guys talk about girls all the time! How could you suddenly decide you, um, liked each other?"

Hogan debated what to tell him. In the end, he decided to go with the truth; somehow, he knew the sergeant would understand. "Carter, we didn't just suddenly decide we liked each other. Newkirk and I have been this way all our lives. And trust me, it hasn't been easy. Yes, we've both dated women, but it was because we were trying to fit in and live normal lives; we wanted to be like everyone else. But it never felt right; at least, not for me. And I'm sure it was the same for Newkirk. I think we'd resigned ourselves to the fact that we were never going to have what we really wanted in life. It was just coincidence that we both ended up here, and, well, found each other."

Carter nodded slowly while he sat there for a few moments, digesting what Hogan had told him. Finally he asked, "So, you've felt this way your whole life?"

"Yes, I have."

"And Newkirk has, too?"

"Yes."

Carter contemplated for another moment, then asked, "So, how long have you two been, um, is 'dating' the right word?"

Hogan smiled. "We've been seeing each other for over a year now."

Carter let out a whistle. "Wow! Over a year? Really? Geez, I never would have guessed, boy! You guys sure know how to keep it a secret!"

"Yes, we do…we have to." Hogan said, and then let out a sigh. "Look, Carter, I don't expect you to understand it, or even accept it. In fact, maybe it would be better if Newkirk and I stopped seeing each other. But I would appreciate it if you didn't tell the others, and I'm sure Newkirk would, too. If this gets out, well, you know what happens to guys like us…"

"Yes, sir," Carter said, nodding in understanding, "And I won't tell anyone."

Hogan put his hand on the sergeant's shoulder. "Thanks, Carter," he replied sincerely. "I'm sorry you had to find out about us this way. I only hope you don't hold it against us."

Carter looked into Hogan's eyes for a moment. Suddenly he blurted out, "Do you love him?"

"What?" Hogan asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Newkirk…do you love him?"

Hogan was taken aback by the question. He stared at Carter for a few moments, wondering how to answer him. At last he replied quietly, "Yes, I do."

"Then you should keep seeing him." Carter stated matter-of-factly.

"What?" Hogan was starting to sound like a broken record.

"Colonel, I may not understand exactly why you two want to be together that way, but it doesn't change who you are, or who Newkirk is, either. If you're in love with each other, then you should be together. I mean, if it makes you happy, why not?"

Hogan was in shock. "Carter, I don't know what to say…"

"Just say you won't break up because of me, sir."

"Carter, if we ever break up, I promise it won't be because of you."

Carter smiled. "Good."

Just then there was a noise out in the main tunnel, followed by Kinch's voice. "Colonel?" they heard him call out.

Hogan got up and walked out of the lab. "I'm here, Kinch," he replied.

"Colonel, Schultz just came by the barracks looking for you. He said Klink wants to see you in his office right away."

"Okay, thanks, Kinch." Hogan started to head for the ladder. "Guess I'll go see what our favorite Kraut wants now." He climbed up to the barracks and strolled over to the door, shooting a quick glance at Newkirk. _Boy, do I need to talk to you! _he thought as he caught the Englishman's eye, then headed out the door, already trying to come up with a plan to get Newkirk alone when he returned from Klink's office. He wasn't sure how Newkirk would react to the news that Carter had found out about their relationship, but he knew he better be ready for anything.

* * *

(1) See, _A Brief Interlude_, by Bits and Pieces (me!)


	7. A very busy morning

**Chapter 7**

Hogan headed for Klink's office, his mind already trying to prepare him for the verbal sparring that was inevitably going to take place. He was finding it difficult to focus; however, after his conversation with Carter. His thoughts kept rudely barging in, demanding to know what he was going to tell Newkirk when he got the chance. He pushed them aside at last, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand…dealing with Klink. As his brain shifted to the more immediate of his problems, it suddenly dawned on him that every time he had his own problems to deal with, the Kommandant always seemed to have a grievance to air with him. As he climbed the steps to the Kommandantur, he couldn't keep an ironic smile from tugging at his lips – Klink's timing had always been terrible!

When Hogan arrived at Klink's office, he rapped twice on the door; opening it after the second knock without bothering to wait for an answer from within. As he swept into the room, he asked innocently, "You wanted to see me, Kommandant?"

Klink looked up from the mountain of paperwork piled high on his desk. "Yes, Hogan, I did," he replied irritably, "And I would appreciate it if you would wait until I give you my permission to enter before you come barging into my office!"

"Oh, sorry Colonel, I didn't realize I was interrupting anything." Hogan walked over and plopped down on the chair in front of Klink's desk. "So, what did you want to see me about?"

Klink scowled. "Hogan, I sent for you because some of my guards have reported to me that the prisoners in this camp are becoming more difficult to handle."

"What do you mean, sir?" Hogan looked at him with mock surprise. Actually, he knew what Klink was talking about; he'd noticed the men getting more restless, too. Between the news they'd been receiving from London regarding the Allied advance, and the food rations growing smaller and smaller, tensions were on the rise. He'd been able to control the situation, but there were a small percentage of men who felt they had to push the limits.

Klink's scowl deepened. "They've been looking angrier, grumbling more, and many of them have been slower to obey the guards' orders."

Hogan went into his usual defense mode. "Well, what do you expect? Their rations keep getting cut. They're hungry, Colonel; that would make anyone grumpy."

"Hogan, we're all hungry. That doesn't excuse their behavior. Now, either you control your men, or I will be forced to start sending them to the cooler."

"Yes, sir," Hogan said, trying to mask his irritation. "Anything else?" he asked as he stood up to leave.

"Yes, Hogan, there's been some shelling recently near Hammelburg, and I need a working party to fix the holes in the road."

Hogan immediately shook his head. "There's no way I'm going to volunteer any of my men for a working party, Kommandant, when they're barely getting enough to eat to make it through the day."

Hogan turned to leave when Klink spoke up. "Colonel Hogan, if you don't volunteer your men, the supply trucks won't be able to get through, and none of us will have anything to eat! Now, if you want more food for your men, I suggest you cooperate."

Hogan turned back, and what he saw in Klink's eyes convinced him that the German colonel was telling the truth. "All right, sir, you'll get your working party."

Klink visibly relaxed. "Thank you, Hogan. I'm sure you must realize that my guards are suffering as much as the prisoners. I…" He paused as he swallowed hard, "Don't think this war is going to last much longer, do you?"

Hogan saw the fear spring up in Klink's eyes, and a wave of pity passed over him. It was obvious Klink knew which way the war was headed, and that he was on the losing team.

"No, I don't," Hogan answered slowly, "But you needn't worry, sir; you've always treated us well, here."

Klink must have seen the sincerity in Hogan's eyes, because the fear began to fade. "Yes, I have, haven't I? In fact, I've followed the Geneva Convention very closely. No one could accuse me of being a cruel or inhumane Kommandant, could they?" As he finished, he looked like he was talking more to himself.

Hogan allowed him a small smile. "No they couldn't, Colonel."

Klink looked at Hogan, and almost instantly his business-as-usual expression took over. "Yes, well, Colonel Hogan, have your men ready for the working party by 1100 hours. Dismissed!" Then he turned his attention back to his paperwork.

Hogan left Klink's office and headed back to the barracks, his mind pondering briefly over how Klink was going to fare when the Allies showed up to liberate the camp. Somehow, he knew the German colonel would be okay, especially when the Allies received glowing reports about him; submitted by a certain senior POW and the men under his charge. He inwardly smiled at that, and then his thoughts turned back to his initial problem of the day; how to tell Newkirk that Carter knew about their relationship.

As he entered the barracks, his eyes quickly swept the room. LeBeau was at the sink, rinsing out their coffee mugs, and Newkirk was sitting at the table, shuffling a deck of cards. The rest of the men were more or less lounging on their bunks; some talking, some reading their letters from home for the thousandth time, some just lying there, apparently lost in thought. He didn't see Kinch or Carter, and guessed they were still down in the tunnel.

Newkirk was the first to look up when the door opened. "Hey, Colonel, what did the Kommandant want to see you about?" he asked.

"You're not gonna like it," Hogan said as he shut the door. "He wants a working party to repair the road near Hammelburg; it must have taken a real beating during that air raid two nights ago."

"Is he serious?" LeBeau exclaimed, "How does he expect us to work when we're all starving!"

"LeBeau's right, sir; Klink's gone daft if he thinks we're in any shape for a workin' party!"

Just as the other men in the barracks began voicing similar opinions, Hogan held up his hand. "Hold it, hold it!" he shouted, waiting until it grew quiet before he continued. "You fellas know we're not that bad off, yet. But we will be if we don't help fix that road; it's the only way the supply trucks can get through. Besides, I'm not gonna make anyone from this barracks do it; I've got another group of men in mind."

"Who are you going to send, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.

Hogan let a slow smile appear on his face. "That group from Barracks nine; the ones that have been giving the guards such a hard time lately. I think they'll be perfect for the job."

Newkirk nodded. "You mean the ones, what 'ang around with those two blokes, Johnson and McFee, don't you, sir? Now there's a couple of bleedin' trouble-makers, if you ask me."

"Oui, mon Colonel, you _should_ put them to work; maybe then they'll be too tired to cause any more trouble!"

"That's the idea," Hogan said, grinning wider.

The false-bottom bunk suddenly banged up, and Kinch climbed out, followed by Carter. Hogan kept his gaze passive as he glanced at his two sergeants, and was relieved to see no hint in Carter's eyes of their previous conversation.

"What's up, Colonel?" Kinch asked, obviously aware that he and Carter had missed something.

"Klink wants a working party to fix the road near Hammelburg," Hogan told him, "And I have just the men for the job. Kinch, how would you like to come with me to Barracks nine and we'll give them the good news?" Hogan knew those men were a little intimidated by Kinch – especially after they'd found out about his boxing record – and figured it wouldn't hurt to bring him along.

Kinch smiled wide. "Yes, sir!" he replied with enthusiasm.

Hogan turned to leave, when he suddenly whirled around to look at his English corporal. "Oh, Newkirk, when I get back, I've got job for you. I think it's time we put together a little something to give to the Allies when they liberate us; something on Klink's behalf, and Schultz, too. It's the least we can do; after all, we never could have pulled off all our missions without their help!"

Everyone burst out laughing at that. Then Hogan and Kinch took off.

Hogan's mind was churning on the way over to Barracks nine. Newkirk and LeBeau were bound to be grilling Carter about why he was so upset earlier, and he had no clue what the sergeant was telling them. He wasn't so worried that Carter would reveal his and Newkirk's secret, but since they knew he'd had a talk with him, he'd be expected to know what had been troubling him. He inwardly sighed. _At least I figured out a way to get Newkirk alone for a while._

Kinch, who hadn't said anything since they left the barracks, suddenly piped up. "Is something wrong, Colonel?"

That startled Hogan out of his reverie. "No, Kinch, why do you ask?"

"You look worried about something, sir."

"Just the usual stuff…comes with the job." Hogan replied, flashing him a lopsided grin while inside his stomach did a flip. _Damn! Now I've got Kinch asking questions. I better do something before this gets out of hand…_

When he and Kinch arrived at Barracks nine, Hogan put on his command face and informed the occupants what they'd just 'volunteered' for. They were not very happy at the news that they'd be filling holes in the road, but after Hogan explained to them that if they didn't cooperate, he would personally recommend to Klink that they be thrown into the cooler, they grudgingly agreed. He also let them know in no uncertain terms that they were to stop giving the guards a hard time. When Hogan had finished, he looked at the markedly subdued faces in front of him, and was confident his orders would be followed.

Satisfied, Hogan headed back to Barracks two, Kinch in tow, joking with him a little about the reaction his little speech had caused. As he talked, his thoughts involuntarily crept back to the upcoming conversation he was about to have with Newkirk. This day just seemed to be getting longer and longer…and it was still morning!

When they reached the barracks, they went inside, and saw Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter seated at the table.

"How did it go, Colonel?" Carter was the first to ask.

"I think they got the message," Hogan answered, flashing a grin. Then his gut tightened a little, and he directed his next remark at Carter. "I take it nothing happened while we were gone."

"No, sir, it's been pretty quiet here," Carter said, "I just got done telling the other fellas about that timer that I was having trouble fixing, and that's why I was upset this morning. But you told me that some things don't work the way you expect them to, and they can't always be fixed, so I decided to stop worrying about it."

"Glad to hear it, Carter," Hogan replied, trying not to look as amazed as he felt. He'd always known the sergeant was a lot smarter than he let on, but it still caught him by surprise sometimes when he showed it. _When this war's over, Carter, you're going to get one hell-of-a recommendation from me!_

"I still don't know why you were so worried about one broken timer, when you said you have plenty of others that work," LeBeau teased.

Carter shrugged. "I just don't like to waste things, that's all."

LeBeau smirked at him. "You just don't like admitting you can't fix everything!"

"All right, that's enough!" Hogan said, a little more harshly than he intended. When he saw the men look at him with surprise, he softened his tone. "I think we've got more important things to worry about right now. This war's not going to last much longer…"

That got a reaction out of the men. They began talking excitedly amongst themselves, their conversations slowly growing in volume. Hogan let them carry on for a few moments, and then raised his hand. As the din subsided, he continued. "But until it ends, we still have work to do."

"That's right, Colonel," LeBeau said, "In fact, didn't you say you had a job for Newkirk when you returned?" He smirked at his English counterpart.

"Oh, thanks for bloody remindin' him, Louis," Newkirk shot back.

"Yes, I did," Hogan replied, his eyes falling to the Englishman, "Newkirk, I want you to help me put together a little something that will help out Klink when we get liberated. We can work on it in the tunnel." Then his gaze landed on LeBeau and Carter. "I want you fellas to stay up here and keep an eye out; if there's any sign of trouble, let me know. You, too, Kinch," he said, glancing at his radioman.

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison.

Hogan nodded. Then he headed for the false-bottom bunk, motioning to Newkirk to follow. As soon as they got below and the bunk closed, Hogan grabbed Newkirk and pulled him forcefully to himself. He wrapped his arms around the Englishman and kissed him, hard.

Newkirk's eyes widened momentarily with surprise, but he returned Hogan's kiss, circling his arms around him and holding him tightly. After about a minute he started to loosen his grip, signaling to him that he was about to pull away, but Hogan just groaned and clutched him more firmly to himself; the colonel wasn't finished.

Hogan held Newkirk for another minute or so; kissing him passionately, deeply, almost frantically. He felt Newkirk respond with the same intensity, and he kissed him harder. At last he broke away from Newkirk's mouth and relaxed his hold, sliding his hands down to the corporal's waist. He stared into Newkirk's questioning eyes and said quietly, "Carter knows."

Newkirk looked confused for a moment, and then his eyes grew impossibly wide as he realized what Hogan was telling him. He opened his mouth to reply, and all that came out was, "What?!"

Hogan slowly nodded. "That's what was bothering him this morning."

"But…how…when…" Newkirk stammered, "I mean, how did he find out?"

"Last night when we came back from the mission, he was down here in his lab. When he heard us, he looked into the main tunnel and saw…"

Newkirk sucked in his breath. "Oh, bloody hell!" he blurted out, "He saw us kissin', didn't he?"

"Yeah," Hogan said, nodding again.

"Blimey! What are we goin' to do, Rob?" Newkirk asked; a slight tremor in his voice.

"Hey, it's okay," Hogan replied reassuringly, seeing the panic welling up in Newkirk's eyes, "He's not going to say anything."

"You sure about that, mate? This is Carter we're talkin' about."

Hogan frowned. "Oh, c'mon Peter, you know as well as I do that Carter can keep a secret; especially when it's important. He's a lot smarter than you, and even I, give him credit for."

Newkirk sighed as his fear began to fade. "You're right, he is pretty smart, isn't he? When he's not trippin' over 'is own two feet, that is!"

Hogan chuckled. "He does get a little clumsy sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Newkirk grinned. "So, what did you end up tellin' 'im, then?" he asked, his grin disappearing.

Hogan relayed the gist of the conversation he'd had with Carter, including the part where the sergeant said they should keep seeing each other. What he didn't mention was admitting to Carter that he was in love with the man who he was holding in his arms at the moment. When he finished, he noticed the relieved expression on Newkirk's face, and he smiled.

Newkirk smiled back. "I 'ave to hand it to Andrew; he makes a lot of sense." Then he leaned in and slid his arms around Hogan; bringing his face to within an inch of the colonel's. "We'd best do what he says…" he whispered as he pressed his lips against Hogan's; reaching up and curling his fingers in his hair.

Hogan kissed him back for a few moments, then he pulled away, a great sadness appearing on his face as he gazed into Newkirk's eyes. "Peter, I…I think it would be better if we stop doing this. I know Carter won't give us away, but we can't afford to have someone else find out what we've been up to."

Newkirk's brow furrowed. "Well, then, we'll just 'ave to be more careful, won't we, Rob?"

Hogan let go of Newkirk and stepped back. He stared at him for a moment, and then sighed. "This war's gonna be over soon, and I just don't want to take any more chances. Not when we're so close to getting out of here."

Newkirk's eyes narrowed. "Are you tryin' to end things between us? Is that what you're doin' 'ere, Rob?"

Hogan swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Peter…"

"Blimey…you are, aren't you?" Newkirk replied angrily, "So that's it then, is it? Thanks for the shags, now, off you go. Oh, and good luck to you!"

"Peter, I told you I couldn't make any promises; I thought you understood."

"I do now," Newkirk snapped. "Tell me, _colonel_, did you ever bloody feel anythin' for me?"

Hogan glared at him. "That's not fair," he said, his own anger surfacing.

"Life's not bloody fair, mate," Newkirk retorted.

"Of course I feel something for you!" Hogan exclaimed, exasperated.

"Yeah?" Newkirk shouted, "What? I want to hear you bloody say it!"

'Fine! I love you! Is that what you wanted to hear?" Hogan yelled back, and then, before he could stop himself, he swept Newkirk into his arms and hugged him tight; crushing the Englishman against himself. "Oh, God, Peter, I do love you. I've wanted to tell you for such a long time…"

Newkirk hugged him back briefly. Then he gently pushed him away. He gazed deeply into Hogan's eyes and said, "I love you, too, Rob, but you already knew that, didn't you?"

Hogan smiled. "Yeah, I did."

Newkirk returned his smile, but this time the sadness was in his eyes. "So, what's our future, then? Any chance we'll be together after the war?"

Hogan paused, wishing with all his heart he could tell Newkirk the answer they both wanted. "I thought we already had this talk, Peter," he said.

"You still plannin' on the military career and the 'acceptable' family life; so's you can fit in, ain't you?"

Hogan didn't say anything; how could he? Newkirk was right.

Newkirk took his silence as a yes. "That's what I thought," he replied, his voice heavy with emotion. "Well, then, maybe we _should_ end it now, seein' as we've got no future to speak of."

"Peter…" Hogan pleaded, taking a step toward him.

Newkirk stepped back, his eyes glistening. "Don't…"

"Dammit, Peter! Why can't you understand I have no choice?"

Newkirk walked up and grabbed Hogan's arms, squeezing them hard. He leaned in until his face was within inches of Hogan's, and gazed steadily into his eyes. "Oh, but you do, Rob," he said quietly, "And you've ruddy made it. You're goin' to give up your shot at bein' happy, just to please everyone else; I get it. But did you ever bleedin' stop to think you're messin' up my shot at happiness, too?" He let go of the colonel's arms, and reached up, cupping Hogan's face. "Don't _you_ get it, mate? I want to spend the rest of me life with you."

Hogan searched his eyes for a moment. "Ah, Peter…" he whispered, and once again wrapped his arms snuggly around Newkirk, who snaked his own arms around Hogan, bringing his hands up behind the colonel's shoulders. Hogan slid one hand up behind Newkirk's head, holding it firmly while he pressed his lips to the Englishman's. But this time he kissed him gently, tenderly, moaning softly when he felt Newkirk respond.

They stayed that way for a full minute. At last Hogan pulled away, and looked deep into the green eyes staring back at him. "I want that, too," he said, "I…I just don't know…"

"At least promise me you'll think about it, Rob."

Hogan smiled. He reached up and placed his hand gently on Newkirk's cheek. "Now _that_ I can promise," he replied. Suddenly he looked up and realized how long they'd been down there. "Uh, We better get to work, or the other guys will really start to wonder what we've been doing down here all this time."

"Just what is it we're supposed to be doin'?"

Hogan grinned. "Writing letters for Klink and Schultz, testifying that they treated us humanely and followed the rules of the Geneva Convention."

Newkirk's eyes widened a little. "You brought me down 'ere for that?"

"You've got the best handwriting of all the guys…everybody knows that!" Hogan winked at him, then he went over to the table and pulled out a few pieces of paper and a pen. He motioned for Newkirk to take a seat, and slid the paper and pen in front of him. "You write, I'll dictate."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "I didn't join the RAF to be your bloomin' secretary, you know."

Hogan walked up behind him and put his hands on Newkirk's shoulders. "How 'bout I make it up to you with a little office romance?" he quipped.

Newkirk turned his head to look at Hogan; a big smirk on his face. Then they both let out a chuckle. Hogan circled around to the opposite side of the table, and began to fill Newkirk in on what he wanted in the letters. As he talked, Newkirk wrote, and soon enough they were finished. Then they headed up to the barracks, Hogan bringing the letters with him.

When they got topside, Hogan handed the letters off to the men, intending to get as many signatures as they could fit on them. As he watched the papers getting passed around, he stole a glance at Newkirk and inwardly sighed. He couldn't help being relieved that he'd decided not to break it off with him for now. But his relief was tempered by the thought that he was just postponing the inevitable. He'd promised Newkirk that he'd consider a life with him after the war, but deep down he didn't think he could go through with it. His upbringing, coupled with his own sense of responsibility forbade it. He was painfully aware that he would be breaking Newkirk's heart – and his own – but he didn't see any other way. He folded his arms and inwardly sighed again. Well, at least they had until the war ended; he'd just have to spend as much time as possible with Newkirk while he could.


	8. Making the right choice

A/N: Sorry this took so long; RL was a real obstacle this past week. And once again, a warning; the beginning of this chapter is a bit explicit.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

"Yeah, that's it…that's it…" Newkirk gasped between breaths; his hands on Hogan's head as it rose and fell over his crotch, "Just a little more…" he panted, "A little more…" Suddenly he whispered breathlessly, "Rob, I'm…"

Hogan pulled away just as Newkirk came, quickening him with his hand. Newkirk breathed heavily, his hands sliding down and clutching Hogan's shoulders. Hogan let go and rose up on his hands and knees, crawling up and plopping on his side next to Newkirk. He slid his arm around the Englishman's bare waist and snuggled against him, kissing the heated skin on his neck.

They lay that way for a few moments; Newkirk catching his breath while Hogan kissed him, drawing his hand lightly up and down his chest. At last Newkirk let out a contented sigh and turned his head to look at Hogan. "You've really got the 'ang of it, mate, you know that?" he said, smiling.

"I had a good teacher," Hogan replied, smiling back.

They stared at each other for a few more moments. Then Newkirk piped up, "Guess we should be 'eadin' back to camp."

Hogan shrugged. "A few more minutes won't make a difference," he said.

Newkirk gazed slyly at him. "Thought I already took care of you, Rob."

"Yes, you did," Hogan grinned, "And you did a very good job of it, too." He leaned in and kissed him again. When he drew back, his expression had become more serious. "You know, Peter, this is probably the last time we're gonna be able to sneak out of camp. The Allies are getting close; it's only a matter of days before they get here."

Newkirk sighed. "I was afraid you were goin' to say that. Not that I'll miss doin' it in a barn, mind you!"

Hogan chuckled. "The hotel rooms _are_ a lot nicer, aren't they?"

"Not to mention less scratchy," Newkirk remarked, squirming a little on the hay. "I'll take a nice, soft bed over this any day!"

"Beggars can't be choosers," Hogan smirked.

"Even beggars 'ave blankets," Newkirk countered, grinning. Then he rolled onto his side and pulled Hogan's naked body against his. "You know what would be the best, Rob?" he said as he hugged him tight, "'Avin' a place of our own…"

Hogan hugged him back, holding him tightly for a few moments. At last he loosened his grip and leaned back. He gazed into Newkirk's eyes for a moment, and then stated, "I think we better get back to camp." He let go of Newkirk, pushed himself up from the pile of hay they'd been lying on, and began to get dressed.

Newkirk watched him, his expression filling with something akin to dread, then he, too, got up and grabbed his clothes. "So, 'ave you thought about it?" he asked casually as he pulled up his pants and fastened them.

Hogan knew what Newkirk was referring to. Ever since their conversation over a month ago, he knew the Englishman had been wondering, waiting for confirmation from him that they'd be together after the war. And now that the end was imminent, Newkirk understandably wanted to know what he'd decided.

"Yes, I have," Hogan replied while pulling on his jacket.

A few moments of silence ticked by. "And?" Newkirk prodded.

Hogan looked at him with a pained expression and let out a huge sigh. "Peter, I can't…I just can't. I'm sorry; I know that's not what you wanted to hear…"

Newkirk's eyes flashed darkly. "I knew it."

"Peter…"

"Bloody hell, Rob!"

"You still don't understand…"

"Oh, but I do," Newkirk's voice rose in volume as he talked, "You're goin' to spend the rest of your life miserable, because you're afraid of livin' the way _you _want to… Never mind that _I'm_ goin' to be bloody miserable, too!"

"Peter, it's not that easy…"

"It _is_ that easy!" Newkirk shouted, "Blimey, you're so worried over what everyone else thinks…"

"Aren't you?" Hogan cut in.

Newkirk shrugged. "Who's goin' to know? It's not that ruddy 'ard to keep a secret, is it? Look 'ow long we've been doin' it here!"

"Carter found out," Hogan reminded him.

"That's because we got careless, and he caught us. We've been more careful since then, 'aven't we, Rob? Besides, Carter's done a good job of keepin' mum."

"Yes, he has," Hogan admitted, "And yes, we've been careful. But it's different here…"

"'Ow is it different? If you ask me, hidin' it from the blokes in camp is a lot 'arder than hidin' it out in the real world."

Hogan shook his head slowly. "That's where you're wrong. It would be much more difficult for us to hide it in the real world."

"And just 'ow do you figure that?" Newkirk retorted.

"Because I'm a colonel in the U.S. Army Air Corps!" Hogan shouted, "I have to keep up appearances; my job depends on it!"

"That 'asn't stopped you 'ere."

Hogan let out a huge sigh. "I told you, it's different here. None of my superiors are here, watching every move I make. But out in the regular world, an officer like me is expected to maintain a certain standard of living. Everything I do – at my job, in my personal life – is going to be carefully scrutinized. Now do you understand?"

"We could still hide it…" Newkirk suggested,

"No, we couldn't; we'd get caught – _I'd_ get caught. And even if I didn't, is that what you really want to do, Peter? Live your life under a lie?"

Newkirk eyed him resolutely. "If that's what it takes for me to 'ave you, then, yes."

"Well, _I_ can't; I'm just not willing to risk it." Hogan told him, his heart breaking. _Ah, Peter, if only you knew how much I want you, too…_

"You don't 'ave to stay in the military, you know." Newkirk said, still trying desperately to change Hogan's mind.

"What else am I going to do? This is the career I've chosen; the one everyone expects me to follow. Besides," Hogan said; a look of determination on his face, "I want to start flying again."

Newkirk stared at him, a myriad of emotions passing across his face. At last he replied, "Well, then, I guess you've made your choice."

"Peter," Hogan said, swallowing hard, "I… I do love you, you know."

"You've got a funny way of showin' it, mate." Newkirk responded gruffly, the hurt he felt dripping from each word. Then he turned and left, not bothering to see if Hogan was following, quickening his pace as he exited the barn.

Hogan watched Newkirk leave, purposely letting him get a head start. At last he headed back to camp, picking his way through the forest while mentally berating himself for pushing away the one person in his life that made him truly happy. Before the words he'd said to Newkirk had even left his mouth, he had regretted them. But, try as he might, he just didn't see any other way. _Oh, Peter, what have I done?_

* * * * * *

The next few days Hogan and Newkirk barely said two words to each other, but no one noticed because the Allies finally showed up to liberate the camp. The activity was endless, and as groups of men began to be evacuated, the excitement level rapidly grew. Hogan made sure that Klink and Schultz, and the rest of the guards at Stalag Thirteen were treated humanely. He also handed over the letters they'd written for them to the liberating C.O., ensuring their continued fair treatment.

At last it was time for the British POWs to go, and Newkirk joined his fellow countrymen, saying his goodbyes and heading for the truck that would take him to the airfield. Just before he hopped in, he looked over at Hogan and gazed at him for a brief moment.

Hogan stared back, his gut twisting in a knot. Then Newkirk climbed aboard, and the truck sped off… And Hogan realized that he'd never felt so incredibly alone.

* * * * * *

_A month later…_

Hogan walked into the large government building in downtown London where they'd all been going through debriefings, out-processing, and re-assignments. He had a meeting with General Butler to discuss his next duty station, and after he entered the lobby, he walked over to catch the elevator. As he was standing there waiting for it to return from the 3rd floor, he glanced over at the main entrance and saw a familiar figure on his way out; wearing a civilian suit and clutching a thick stack of papers. The man turned to look at him, and it was Newkirk. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of him, and he stared; not caring if anyone noticed.

Newkirk stared back; keeping his expression unreadable, then he turned and walked out without so much as a backward glance.

Hogan watched him leave, and then his attention was diverted by the familiar 'ding' of the elevator as it arrived at his floor and opened its doors invitingly. He let out a quiet sigh and boarded; pushing the button for the 4th floor. As the doors closed, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to get his emotions under control. By the time the double doors opened, he was completely composed.

He walked down the hall and stopped at the third room on the left. He breathed in deeply and afforded himself one more sigh. Then he swung open the door in his usual confident manner, smiling warmly at the female corporal behind the desk.

"Colonel Robert Hogan, here to see General Butler," he said, nonchalantly.

"Yes, Colonel," the corporal replied in a sweet, yet rather clipped voice, "The General has been expecting you. You may go in."

"Thank you," Hogan nodded at her and walked over to the door to Butler's office. Upon entering, he was greeted by a loud, booming voice.

"Robert! I can't tell you how good it is to see you!" General Butler exclaimed as he rose from his chair and came around the desk.

As Hogan approached him, he replied warmly, "Thank you, sir. It's good to see you, too."

Butler held out his hand and Hogan shook it firmly. Then the general gestured toward a large, plush chair in front of his desk and said, "Please, have a seat."

Hogan smiled and sat down on the chair, while Butler circled around and plopped back down on his own comfortable chair behind the desk. When the two men were situated, Butler began.

"So, Robert, I understand you're eager to return to your status as a pilot."

"Yes, sir, I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to flying again," Hogan responded with enthusiasm.

Butler hesitated for a moment, eyeing Hogan thoughtfully. "How would you feel about a promotion, instead?" he asked at last.

Hogan's brow furrowed. "A promotion, sir?"

Butler smiled wide. "General Robert E. Hogan… Has quite a ring to it, don't you think?"

"General… I don't know what to say," Hogan said, shifting slightly in his seat.

"If anyone deserves it, it's you, Robert."

"Thank you, sir," Hogan replied, "And it's quite an honor…" Hogan stopped to clear his throat, "But I would prefer to command a squadron; even if it means remaining a colonel."

Butler looked at him with determination. "I had a feeling you would say that; you've always been a man of action. But I'm afraid the decision has already been made. You can either accept the promotion and take the desk position that's waiting for you in Washington, D.C., or you can retire." He leaned forward a little; his gaze reflecting sympathy. "I'm sorry, Robert, I know that's not what you wanted to hear…"

Hogan had to stop himself from visibly sucking in his breath at Butler's last comment; the familiarity of it taking him by complete surprise. He sat there, knowing he should say something, but his brain seemed to have betrayed him for the moment.

Butler must have noticed Hogan's inward struggle, because he leaned back and looked noncommittally at him. "It's up to you, you know, but I have to say that turning down a promotion like this would be foolish, in my opinion."

"Would it be all right if I take some time to think about it, sir?" Hogan said, finally finding his voice.

Butler flashed him a small smile. "Yes, it would. In fact, I would have been surprised if you hadn't asked," he said. "But I will need your answer at the end of the week."

"Yes, sir," Hogan responded. Then he rose from his seat and bid the general goodbye. He left Butler's office, and hurried down the hall to the elevator. When he reached the lobby, he walked quickly to the doors leading to the outside, and exited the building; his senses immediately assaulted by the noise of the traffic and the smell of exhaust. He glanced first to his left; then his right, and, following a hunch, chose the latter. As he walked down the sidewalk, he came across a pub that appeared to be a popular hangout, judging by the crowds mingling within. He inhaled a big breath, and then grabbed the door handle and entered; wishing with all his heart he knew what he was going to do.

* * * * * *

_Presently…_

Hogan suddenly realized he'd been staring at his glass for a while, and, after glancing around the pub quickly, he raised it and downed the last of his beer in one swallow. He was just about to flag the waitress over to order another, when the door to the pub opened, and the man he'd been waiting for walked in. Hogan immediately caught his eye, and the man smiled and headed over to the booth that Hogan was occupying.

"Sorry to keep you waitin' Rob," Newkirk said as he slid into the seat opposite Hogan, "It took a bit longer than I thought."

"That's okay, Peter," Hogan reassured him, smiling back, "I didn't have anything else to do today."

"No, you didn't, did you?" Newkirk replied, flashing him his familiar smirk.

Hogan chuckled. "So, how's Mavis?" he asked.

"Busy as always!" Newkirk exclaimed, then he leaned in, his eyes widening, "I still don't know 'ow she does it; who knew she'd 'ave twins! But I 'ave to say, that husband of hers; he 'elps out a lot, and he treats her right, he does. Shawn's a decent bloke, if I ever did meet one!"

Hogan nodded. 'She did marry a good man, didn't she?"

Newkirk smiled. "Yes, she did." Then his eyes narrowed slightly, "Even if she didn't ask my permission."

"How could she? You _were_ in a German POW camp, after all."

Newkirk smirked again. "Is that where I was?" he joked, and then he suddenly looked surprised. "Hey, I just realized, it was seven months ago that we left Stalag Thirteen… 'Ow 'bout that!"

"Seven months…" Hogan echoed, then a smirk appeared on his own face, "And it's been six months since I ran into you in this very pub, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it has," Newkirk said, "That day I saw you goin' to see General Butler." He paused as his face took on a curious expression. "Say, 'ow did you know you'd find me 'ere after you talked to 'im?" he asked.

"Let's just say I had a hunch," Hogan answered.

"Well, whatever it was, I'm glad you did." Newkirk replied, then he shook his head, "Blimey, I still can't believe I brought you back to my flat…"

Hogan smiled, "We didn't step foot outside for two days, did we?" he uttered conspiratorially.

Newkirk winked at him. "Good thing me icebox was stocked!" he replied, chuckling.

Just then the waitress came over, and Newkirk ordered a pint for himself, and a refill for Hogan. When she left, he noticed Hogan looking at him with anticipation. He smiled wide as he plopped the manila folder on the table that he'd carried in with him and opened it, pulling out the papers inside. "It's all ours, Rob," he said excitedly, "We are now the proud owners of our own little pub; right 'ere in the middle of London!"

"That's great, Peter!" Hogan exclaimed, matching his enthusiasm, then asked him curiously, "Any idea what we're gonna call it?"

Newkirk eyed him mischievously, "I've been givin' it a lot of thought, Rob, and think I've got the perfect name. 'Ow about… Schultzies!"

Hogan burst out laughing, and Newkirk joined him. After a moment they regained their composure, and Hogan exclaimed, "That's perfect!"

The waitress returned, setting the two pints down in front of them. Then she was off to another table, her pace quickening as more patrons filtered in; eager to unwind after a hard day's work.

Hogan picked up his glass and held it out in front of him. "To Schultzies!" he said, smiling.

Newkirk raised his own glass and clinked it against Hogan's. "To Schultzies!" he replied, grinning from ear to ear.

They both took a big swig, and set their glasses back down on the table. Hogan gazed at the man across from him…his friend, his partner, his lover…and he felt a wave of emotions sweep through him; love, desire, contentment…and happiness. He thought briefly about what he'd given up by choosing to spend his life with Newkirk – a career as a general, pushing papers in some office, attending endless mandatory parties – and he knew he had no regrets. All that mattered to him was Peter, and he was going to spend the rest of his life with him.

They sat there for a few more minutes, working on their beers, watching the crowd grow, when Hogan finally piped up, "Why don't we get out of here?"

Newkirk smiled. "What did you 'ave in mind, Rob?"

Hogan narrowed his eyes seductively. "Let's go home."

Newkirk leaned forward. "I thought you'd never ask," he replied, matching Hogan's gaze.

Hogan tossed some money onto the table, enough to cover the bill with a generous tip included, and then he and Newkirk got up and made their way to the door. When they exited the pub, they noticed it was just getting dark, and the lights of the city seemed to cast an almost ethereal glow around them. As they turned right and began to walk in the direction of their apartment, Hogan inwardly smiled…happiness may indeed have its price, but it was definitely worth it.

THE END


End file.
